Wrong Side of Heaven, Righteous Side of Hell
by Kristalette
Summary: Stealing is wrong. Stealing from a man with the power of the Outsider and zero conscience? Well, that's just foolish, isn't it? Garrett learns the hard way that some jobs are worth saying 'no' to. Reviews both welcomed and appreciated, Enjoy
1. Summery

**_Summery:_**

Always remember a simple fact of life. If you think it's too good to be true, it probably is. Garrett learns this lesson the hard way. Before he really deserves the title of a master thief, this cocky little 18 year old gets kicked off his pedestal real quick. And why? He steals from the wrong guy, Daud. The Knife of Dunwall doesn't take too kindly to kids squeezing in on his terf. Luckily Daud knows talent when he sees it and while the kid has this THING against killing people, he's quick on his feet and with his hands. Daud uses any tool to his advantage and this one was dropped right on his doorstep.

 _ **Side Note:** _The Chapters will be named after songs. They are either to represent the general theme of the chapter, the attitude of the character at that moment, or it was the song I was listening to at the time of writing the chapter {Or any combination of the three.}. I'll leave the interpretation up to you, unless you feel like asking then I'll let ya know.

Just an idea I've had rattling around in my brain for a little too long. Operating under the assumption that Garrett is a title passed down from master to apprentice. Comments and reviews greatly appreciated, Enjoy!


	2. Ch1: Counting Stars

" _ **It's**_ not your usual job but this guy," Basso barked a laugh, "Is one of those stuffed shirts with too much gold and he's willing to pay out the nose to get this." He pulled a beat-to-death, brown book out of his desk and flipped to the page marked by a ribbon. There was a letter half-stuffed back into its original envelope. It was covered in elegant calligraphy with a vibrant crest of nobility stamped on the seal of the envelope.

"Now usually I wouldn't even consider a job like this but…" he lifted the thing between cautious fingers as though certain he'd tear it.

"Price too good?" Garrett finished with the barest hint of a smile.

Basso shrugged and held out the letter. "His sweetheart lives in a city called Dunwall. It's a little fishing kingdom with about as much charm as our little slice-a-heaven. She's got this family heirloom that her uncle's hoarding and won't give to her. Long story short, he wants you to retrieve it and bring it to him. Simple job really."

Garrett took the offered letter and started to read it over. "What's the catch?"

"Well then, that's the bad news: it's a boat ride away. About two days away."

Garrett scoffed softly, "What? They don't have thieves there?"

"He heard of Senior's reputation, thinks you're him. Also he won't work with the guy who runs that city. Says he's crazy and he don't wanna get in with him."

Garrett's gut clenched but he kept his face and body language neutral, no sense in letting Basso know he was concerned. "So I'd be moving in on another thief's turf?"

Basso shrugged, "Not really, from what I heard the guy is an assassin who does retrieval stuff on the side. But he's known for taking out his targets and this _lord_ don't want her dear old uncle to kick it just yet."

At the word ' _assassin_ ' Garrett padded over to the corner of the room and turned away from Basso, in case his face was giving anything away, "But this guy doesn't care about others coming into his city?"

"Doubtful."

He pretended to be interested in the letter even though he'd read it already. Twice, in fact. Garrett didn't like Basso's nonchalant attitude about this. Thieves are territorial and rarely are they the non-violent sort. Garrett recalled many competitors and what Senior had done to them. Suddenly, and around the age of eleven, the competition had dried up. No one wanted to fight for his territory.

Garrett had asked why once, and only once, due to the chill that had traveled up his spine at Senior's slow, mischievous grin and glimmering eyes. Though, reflecting back, he never did answer the question. Garrett had been too scared to ask again. He would kill to know now.

Basso was protective. If this would be an issue he wouldn't have waved the trinket in Garrett's face, right? Then again, if the payoff was enough Garrett was pretty sure the greedy bastard would _only_ see the gold and overlook any danger. Which begged the question…

"How much, Basso?"

A chuckle rumbled behind him, "Garrett. My ten percent, I could retire on it. Now, would I? No. But the point is that I _could_."

Garrett stared down at the letter, something in his gut telling him this was not a good plan.

In hindsight, he should have listened to his gut.

* * *

 _ **Counting Stars**_ \- One Republic.


	3. Ch2: Ain't No Rest for the Wicked

_**The**_ boat, ship, whatever, made his stomach lurch and he still had his feet firmly planted on the dock. He never liked ships but he knew he could handle this. After all, it was only two days.

Two days.

 _Two_ days..

Two _days_...

He chanted it over and over in his head as his personal mantra.

Basso snapped Garrett from his thoughts. "When you get there, make sure you track down a man named Edmond. If you run into any problems he's got a few pigeons who can get messages to me. He runs one of the black market shops there. You'll be able to find the shops by the markings. Just look for two black hands, okay? Any… illicit shopkeep can tell you where he is. They have a pretty tight network."

"Sure…" Garrett murmured.

"One more thing I forgot to mention." Basso said handing him an envelope with a fake identity and papers allowing safe passage into Dunwall. "People are raving about a plague over there, so steer clear of the rats and don't die okay?"

Garrett shifted his glare from the boat to Basso, "You're a real comfort, you know that?" he shoved the papers into his small rucksack and clenched it to his side.

"I do my best. Now go on." He clapped Garrett on the back and added under his breath, "happy stealing!"

Garrett ground down on his molars as his friend gestured to the ramp. He didn't want to go, not that the price wasn't good enough, he just… he was uncertain about leaving his… home. He hated the City, but he also loved it. Knew every nook, cranny, and hiding place. He knew everyone in the City from the stuffed shirts all the way down to the gangs he avoided, for obvious reasons. He even knew the shopping patterns of most of the refined ladies. Perhaps stepping out of his routine would be a good thing, but still… He didn't relish in the change.

"What's the hold up?"

Garrett eyed Basso warily, "You sure this is a good idea?" the ship let out two loud blasts of its horn and Basso pushed Garrett onto the ramp before they took it off the dock, "No time for second guesses. Go!"

Garrett stumbled up the ramp and dropped into the ship, he ignored the grumblings of the sailors as he whipped back around and clung to the railing. Basso waved him off but didn't stick around. And Garrett found he couldn't move. It was as though he was adhered to the deck. The ramp scraped his arm as the sailors pulled it in and the wind bit into his skin but his fingers dug into the railing, grounding him there. The nausea crept into his conscience mind about the same time a gruff voice broke through his self loathing.

"Oy kid. Cap wants you _off_ the deck!"

Garrett lifted his head from the City that was quickly being swallowed by a shroud of clouds and rain. His eyes met those of a nearly toothless, older sailor stacked twice his size. He blinked a few times and nodded. Best not to cause trouble on a boat. With nowhere else to go. So far from the City already.

He picked up his nearly forgotten bag and slung it over his shoulder, "Where does he want me?"

"Below, boy! Someone as skinny as you'll catch your death before the water in your clothes got time to dry. Now off with ya!" He snagged the collar of Garrett's borrowed tunic and slung him toward an ajar door leading below deck.

Garrett turned on his heel to glare at the man then followed his order. He couldn't blame the sailor but he never much cared for them either. They were idiots. The lot of them. And experience had taught him most of them were a nuisance while sober and downright violent when they were drunk.

As he ducked into the darkened cabin, his stomach lurched harder at being confined and he had to freeze to convince his gut it was _not_ a good time to see his breakfast again. He swallowed a few times, feeling sweat creep down his temples and neck. _Just breathe. Breathe. You're stronger than your body._ Slowly the overwhelming feeling to vomit abated, though it didn't entirely go away. He was able to finish his descent into the ship and that was key.

"First time?" someone asked as he stumbled over to a table and dropped his bag down while sinking into a seat.

"No." Garrett breathed, "Just remembering why I hate boats."

A wooden cup with a small amount of water in the bottom, appeared under Garrett's nose. He blinked at it then glared up at the back of the boney, older male hobbling away. His glower softened as he took in the male's missing leg and the wooden cane he used to compensate. "Thanks, old-timer." _Though the gods know I won't drink it or there's no way I'll be able to fight the urge to vomit this time._

"Ye should, ye know." he said, seeming to read Garrett's thoughts or perhaps it was simply etched all over his face. "It'll settle yer stomach and if ye do get sick, it'll keep ye from getting too much worse."

His nose scrunched at the thought of drinking anything and his stomach did a couple of flips. "I think I'll chance it."

The male shrugged and clomped back into the small galley kitchen. "Suit yeself. But ye hurl in my kitchen, ye clean it up."

"Threats, old man?" Garrett would have smiled if he hadn't felt so green.

"Ye do what ye must when ye deal wit' the dogs I deal wit'."

"Sailors get seasick?" Garrett asked hoping to distract himself.

The old man nodded, "At times. Most are stubborn passengers though." He added the last bit with a pointed look at Garrett.

"Yeah? And this works?"

The geezer smiled at him and waved his hand dismissively, "Threats always work. But if ye mean the drink? Yeah, there're those it don't work on. If I had my way I'd give ye ginger. We ain't got none, so ye'll have to make do."

Garrett sniffed the drink cautiously, when the sharp citrus scent hit his nose his stomach riled. It wasn't water. Definitely not water.

"It's lime juice." The old man chuckled at the look Garrett shot at him, "yer lucky we have it. I found a few of 'um at port. It's sour but it won't kill ye."

With little debate Garrett resolved to try it, after all, what could it actually harm? Though his mind was wrapped around the premise his stomach wasn't quite getting the memo. The overpowering scent was too much for him, he did however recall how Senior got him to swallow that god-awful medicine that he used to give him to combat soreness. He took a couple gulps of breath, pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, then kicked the drink down like a shot.

He fought the full body shiver that threatened to overtake him, not that he was altogether successful, but he was able to clamp down on his muscles, minimizing it a little. His stomach heaved at first but slowly it calmed giving him, at least, a brief reprieve.

"Better?" The old sailor asked as Garrett panted and shoved the cup away.

Garrett didn't spare the old man his glare this time, "That… was… awful…" which… only seemed to amuse the old-timer.

He gave a wheezing laugh and propped his hip against the counter while he pointed his crutch at Garrett, "Beggars can't be choosers, boy. Be grateful for what ye have, ye'll have a happy life then."

Garrett gave the old timer a pointed look but didn't give a response to the advice. Instead he turned in his seat so that his legs were stretched out in the small isle that the benches and tables left available. He laid himself out on the hard bench and attempted to breathe normally. If he wasn't so nauseated he would have been amused. Had he known Garrett's profession he probably would have gotten a serious tongue lashing.

The tell-tale c _lunk-and-drag_ of the old man walking across the floor started up and Garrett honed in on the sound. Using it to keep his mind off the rolling of the ship.

This was going to be a _long_ two days.

XXX

As journeys by boat go, that one had been a fairly uneventful–hellish–nightmare.

As a brief explanation: a storm. A _constant_ storm rocked the _damn_ boat for _two days!_ But they hadn't been sieged by pirates so that was a plus, as well as an ever present fear in the back of Garrett's mind.

If Garrett hadn't been so queazed out he'd have stabbed Basso in the heart. In his current mood, not all the gold in the world could appease him.

The captain's baritone thundered all the way into the galley as he spouted orders at the crew. It had been that way the whole trip and Garrett had to wonder _how_ that man kept his voice with all the shouting he did. It did nothing for Garrett's nerves either. If he was one of those bastards following orders he'd have jumped ship by now.

He cradled his head and clamped his jaw shut while he focused on his breathing and keeping the bile down. _Soon.. very soon… land. You'll be on solid land soon…_

"Ye should just go outside 'n throw up." the old bastard grumbled, "Ye'll feel better."

Garrett had long since begun to hate the man and his _useless_ advice. He hadn't stopped yammering on either, it was a wonder Garrett hadn't knocked him out yet. He didn't bother to answer the man and in all honesty, couldn't if he wanted to. His stomach churned with the ship and his bones had started to ache with the force he used to keep himself in check.

Garrett moaned when a particularly large wave lurched the boat to the side and the sailors aboard began to scramble around the deck. The squeaks of their booted feet sliding over the saturated deck carried into the cabin. "God _damn_! Are we there yet?"

"Soon."

Garrett swallowed a couple of times. "You've said that for _hours!_ "

"And it's even truer now than it was then."

"I _loathe_ you."

He let out a howl and cackle and dropped a bowl, half filled with broth, under Garrett's nose. It didn't do him any favors, considering he gagged a few times before pushing it away.

"Ye should have something in ye belly. Ye haven't eaten almost this whole trip."

Garrett glared up, "I can't. I just want land."

"Soon."

Garrett growled his frustration and curled up in the corner, bundling a scratchy blanket over his sweat soaked skin.

As if he wasn't miserable enough, the sound of boots galumphing down into the galley pounded around in Garrett's skull. Then there were quiet, fast whispers and the shuffling of a paper. Garrett's instincts flared. He clutched his rucksack closer to his side and cracked his eyes to slits, his nausea forgotten, suspicion took its place.

Sure enough, there were two sailors staring at Garrett, one pointed to the paper shared between them and the other nodded. A wanted poster… they had his wanted poster.

 _Damn!_

He had hoped that no one would have recognized him but he supposed it was inevitable.

 _"Hey!"_

It was obvious they were going to turn him in for the reward. But Dunwall didn't care about him, he'd never bothered that city. That meant– _if_ they somehow managed to capture him–he wouldn't be getting off this godforsaken boat for at least another two days. Not only would that put him behind but he'd have to endure this endless nausea indefinitely. And that simply wouldn't do.

A familiar form of anger began to take hold of his gut, banishing the nausea and draping a deadly calm over his bones. He palmed his blackjack that was buried in his rucksack, the familiar weight feeling good in his palm. After two days of behaving, of keeping his head down, eyes shut, and deadening all his desires he was ready to let a little anger out.

"You deaf?" the beefed-up sailor pounded over.

Garrett kept his grin to himself. _Good dog… come here…_

A meaty hand latched onto the blanket around Garrett's body and hauled him up, the wanted poster was shoved in Garrett's face, "This looks like you, don't it boy?"

Garrett didn't bother to look, it was him. He had no doubt.

"How's about we get us that reward money? Could live on an island for a while on that gold."

The other guy, a wiry little bastard, crackled and swung the coil of rope he had off his shoulder. As he approached he pulled the end free, a tangible threat.

 _Morons_.

"Hey!" The geezer joined the party as he seemed to realize what the two men were planning. His bleeding heart looked like it had given Garrett the distraction he was waiting for. "You leave that boy alone!"

The alpha pivoted to spit, "back off!" and the little one rocked onto the balls of his feet, falling into a crouch that told Garrett this one knew how to brawl. But the little one twisted toward the geezer too, Garrett took his opportunity in stride. He aimed at the lovely little vain in the big guy's temple and thrust the blackjack on point there.

The guy crumpled like a sack. As Garrett knew he would. The little guy turned on Garrett, the fact that he didn't bum rush the door didn't surprise him. Of the two, this one was the fighter. And fighters were easy to manipulate. Garrett couldn't be bothered to get into any kind of brawling position as he knew this wouldn't last long. He flipped the blackjack in the air and caught it while he crooked a finger at the guy twice, taunting him. It had the desired effect, he let out a growl while he sunk into his haunches and bolted at Garrett at a dead run.

 _Moron._

Garrett sidestepped the guy at the last second, twisting his torso so that it stayed pivoted toward him the whole time. His neck snapped back as he met the wall face first but he wasn't down yet. He bounced off the wall and fell to his knees. Dazed and panting he snapped his eyes to Garrett's torso.

Garrett grinned at him, "You want me? Come get me."

A thought raced through Garrett's mind that turned his grin into a full blown smile: Aren't people just so amusing when they do as they are told?

He pulled the bull-routine again and attempted to rush Garrett. A swift and well timed swing upward with the blackjack had the desired effect. Much like when he had met the wall earlier, his head kicked back only this time he did a little spinout which Garrett used to his advantage. He snatched one of the flailing man's wrists and jerked the guy into his arms. As his back met Garrett's chest, his arms circled the man's neck.

He flexed hard and held one of his wrists with his other hand, fingernails bit into his forearm but he sure as hell wasn't letting the guy go. He chuckled as the guy struggled in his grip, "Next time." He whispered in his captive's ear. "Pick on someone your own size."

The male went limp in Garrett's arms and he tossed the worthless bastard with no interest in where or how he landed to the ground. He snagged his bag and smirked at the old man who was staring at the downed duo with horror.

"I don't have to do that to you, do I?" Garrett asked even though he knew the answer.

The man shook his head slowly, his eyes not deviating from the men on the floor.

"Good. I'm going to walk out of here now. And you will not stop me."

A shaky stare met Garrett's even one and he swallowed hard. "Y-yes…. Wha-whatever ye s-s-s-say…."

Garrett dipped his chin in a quick nod. As he bounded up the steps he glanced over his shoulder and smiled again, "It goes without saying but you never saw me, right?"

He heard another gulp and then a squeak that was an answer, "S-s-s-s-aw who? I saw n-o one. T-them? t-they slipped! Knocked 'umself-s-s-s-s out, they did!"

"Smart man." He didn't wait for a response and he definitely wasn't going to wait for more sailors to show. It was time to get good and invisible.

It was time to lose the traveler facade and get back to Garrett: The Master Thief.

* * *

 _ **Ain't No Rest for the Wicked**_ \- Cage the Elephant.


	4. Ch3: All of Me

_**Corvo** _adjusted the book in his grip, his daughter heavy on his other shoulder. She'd fallen asleep not so very long ago, and around the same time his entire arm had, so he was attempting not to squirm. He had picked a boring economics book to read to her while her mother was in a meeting, and his plan had worked. She was getting some well-needed rest given the fact that the poor little one had been ill for the better part of the week. Problem was… his plan backfired on him as he was now forced to read the boring economics book for lack of anything else to do because he hadn't thought his plan all the way through.

He heaved an irritated sigh and let the book drop into his lap as he re-read the same passage three times without retaining any information. He brushed Emily's haphazard curls away from her face and cradled her little cheek.

He was grateful she looked so much like her mother. She'd inherited the flawless porcelain skin and deep midnight hair from her mother. Her cheekbones were, likewise, the same high, sharp build as his Jessamine's. Her eyes were his, and while it wasn't wise to think this way, he was rather proud of it. She had his strong chin as well, the baby fat did little to conceal it and it would only grow more pronounced with time.

Corvo smiled as he ran a finger over her adorable button nose knowing it was too soon to tell who's she'd inherit. She was a… graceful mix of the two of them, he realized, and so beautiful. It was relatively easy to keep her lineage a secret… for now.

He hadn't wanted kids when he was younger. Hadn't even thought of having kids, honestly. Now he couldn't imagine his life without her. He had no idea it was possible to love someone so completely. Sure, romantic love was one thing, and he certainly loved his Jessamine. What he felt for the girl was… different and he couldn't explain why. All he knew was that she was his baby and he would do anything for her. Anything.

Corvo glanced around to make sure he was still alone with her, when he was satisfied, he pressed a kiss to her heated forehead. He worried about her fever but the doctor had given them a small tonic and said it just needed to run its course. Which had not been very reassuring. He'd hoped the doctor would have done more.

But had he pressed, questions would have been raised. After all, Jessamine was supposed to be his primary concern.

The sound of Jessamine's footsteps started in from down the hall. Corvo smiled, he knew those heels when he heard them. Hell, the echo of those shoes bounced around the entirety of the apartments, _anyone_ would know where she was at all times. The door opened a crack and she snuck her head in, checking in on Emily no doubt.

He lifted his hand in a half-hearted wave and then placed a single finger to his lips, "She's sleeping."

She nodded as she crept in, somehow making those shoes silent for once, and locked the door behind her. She crossed the room and gingerly placed the back of her hand to Emily's forehead, the girl jumped a little at the contact then settled again in the crook of his arm. "She's still hot." Jessamine whispered, "has she been sleeping this whole time?"

"Just for a minute. Hey?" He held his hand out to her and she flushed as she accepted it. He tugged on her arm, pulling her to rest on the edge of the chaise lounge. He ran the pads of his fingers over her cheek and captured her chin, leading her in for a slow kiss. She gripped the lapel of his coat, drawing him as near as she was able with Emily still sleeping in his arms.

When they parted her eyes were fussy. He wasn't going to lie, pride flooded through him at the knowledge that he could still get her glassy-eyed from a single kiss.

She cleared her throat and fingered the book on his lap. Her eyebrows drew together in confusion, " _A detailed analysis of the economic history of Dunwa-_ Please tell me you weren't reading this to our poor, sick child?"

"Well," he cleared his throat and deposited the wretched thing on the end table beside the chaise lounge they were settled on. "I would have read the one about pirates but then she wants to sword fight."

"And you wanted her to sleep." she finished for him.

He nodded and she chuckled quietly, "Well you certainly picked a good one. It sounds about as interesting as watching grass grow."

"Less." he grumbled. "I would have preferred that honestly."

She laughed again and brushed his hair away from his eyes, she leaned in again and pressed her lips to his cheek. "I have no sympathy for you. You picked it. You deserve it for making my baby suffer."

He narrowed his eyes at her in a mock gesture. "What a wicked woman you are."

She beamed. _Isles, she is lovely!_ Corvo captured her chin with his free hand and pulled her lips to his again. It wouldn't be enough… not nearly enough, but then he supposed they never would have enough. She was an Empress when it was all said and done. A ruler, a leader and he was… a lower class citizen. It would be too much to ask for more.

Emily stirred in his grip. The connection between the lovers was broken and he sat back with a frown, the moment gone. Jessamine gathered young Emily in her arms, the five year old hanging awkwardly in her grip, and placed her in her bed. She wrapped the girl in blankets and began humming to her while she finger combed her curls.

Corvo shook out his still tingling arm and crossed the room. He sat on the edge of the bed behind Jessamine and wrapped his arms around her slender waist. She sighed and sank into his chest while he hummed his approval. He brushed his fingers down her jaw and cupped her cheek, much in the way he had done with their child earlier. Only this time fueled with an emotion that was far from paternal, he tilted her chin to him again. It was only to get her attention but he found himself pressing his forehead to hers and sighing, "I'm so lucky to have you two in my life."

And he meant it, it was a relief for once to drop all pretense. The secrets they told everyone, including Emily, fading to the background. In this moment, he was a father holding the woman he loved more than life itself.

She made a happy noise in the back of her throat and tightened her grip on his arms, "And we are just as fortunate to have you with us, my Lord Protector."

* * *

 ** _All of Me_** \- John Legend.


	5. Ch4: Battle Cry

_**Dunwall** _stank of rotting fish and briny sea no matter how far you delved into the city, it seemed. Garrett was unused to the stench considering he grew up away from the docks, in the City proper. It certainly didn't help that no matter how far he travelled into Dunwall he could not escape the ocean.

He lounged on the rooftop of a rather wealthy banker, taking stock of the lovely little treasures he had swiped from the man. One of which had been a gilded picture frame of his lovely little family. Garrett tossed the portrait and wrapped the fine frame in one of his shirts to prevent the glass from breaking. What a waste of good gold. The upside? There was always some preening noble with too much coin willing to spend it on meaningless keepsakes.

And if not, melting it down and selling the raw materials was always an option. Though not one he'd personally ever had to do.

Now all he needed to find was a fence.

Garrett was biding his time and hoping his appetite would return so that he could eat something before nightfall. He didn't like to work while hungry since he never quite knew what would happen on a job and when his next meal would be. Problem was, his rations were just not appealing and his gut had not forgiven him for that merry-damn-boat-ride. At least stealing served as a quality distraction from his physical issues. He was currently riding on a high that only came from robbing some rich bastard blind.

He squinted at the setting sun peaking through slivers of the sky the storm hadn't covered. He had about an hour till nightfall, before he could really roam the city. Ideally, he would like to get a feel for it at night. See what civilians would let him get away with, if anything, and mark what the guards actually wore. He'd seen very few and that worried him slightly, given that he was in a very rich district. But above all he needed to get a letter to Basso to tell him he was still alive and that he'd made it to Dunwall without incident.

Well… Without an incident worth mentioning. Those thugs had been little more than an amusement. If that's the worst this place had to offer he was more than confident in his ability to complete the job.

Something in the peripheral of his vision fluttered across a rooftop and, with a sinking feeling in his gut, Garrett bundled his things up and shoved them in his satchel. He hadn't donned his hood or other clothing, worried someone would recognize him as those sailors had. Besides, he still needed his traveler facade to get a room for the next couple of nights. He crept up the roof and trained his eyes on the source of the odd flutter. He saw nothing out of the norm.

Perhaps the earlier threat had him paranoid but he could have sworn he saw something. He shook himself, that must be it. He was overreacting to every little thing now that he'd had a near-miss.

He slung his bag over his shoulder and decided now was a good time to find a place to hunker down for the night. With a vague idea of where to go but no real direction, Garrett slid down the pipes trailing down the side of the building to duck into the alley. Then he slipped, unnoticed, into the crowded street.

It was odd, walking around town, his face in full view of anyone who passed. It was a different sort of invisible than the one he typically wore. He blended easily with the sailors and merchants and regular people who roamed the open roads.

It was something he'd never quite experienced. And if he had, he'd been too young to grasp the concept.

But there he was, just one of the crowd. Invisible whilst in plain sight.

He followed the people, cutting a couple of purses as he went. It wasn't even that he would need that much, he just did it on instinct. Not realizing he'd even done it until the weight of the purse was in his hand or in some cases, already in his pocket. He started to glance at the signs above him as the crowd began to dissipate. Finally, he came across an inn that didn't look like a total rundown.

Inside —thankfully— wasn't any better or any worse than the outside, which meant the owner cared about the place but didn't have the coin to keep it well maintained. Which was perfect. It didn't attract pickpockets for two reasons. One they couldn't afford to stay the night which would be a gamble of their contraband. And two, no one here would be worth stealing from. It was the perfect hideout.

Garrett waited as the innkeeper assisted someone as he had no interest in dealing with anyone he didn't have to. Especially a drunk journalist from the sound of him. He raved on about the rats, loudly, while the innkeeper attempted to quiet him. She finally seemed to give up and snapped her fingers at a man lounging in the corner of the den area. He was a big man and he only became more intimidating as he stood, which was likely the point. "Liam. See that this gentleman gets a room to sleep his drink off! I'll put it on his tab."

"Yes ma'am," Liam's voice carried through the air as dominating a presence as the man himself. Garrett made a note of the way his right knee didn't seem to hold his weight as well as the left and how one of his eyes seemed glazed slightly. He may not have been blind but his vision was _definitely_ impaired on that side. He would be a problem if he knew Garrett was a thief, so he would behave. For the time being.

Garrett watched cautiously as the monster of a man slung the babbling reporter onto his shoulder and slowly ascended the steps. Trouble was, he couldn't figure out if the guy lumbered along because he was being lazy or if he was actually that slow. Garrett didn't like surprises so knowing how bad the giant's knee was going to be high on his priority list.

"Kid? You want help or you wanna just stand there like wall art?"

Garrett shook himself and forced himself to focus on the little innkeeper. As he approached he had to fight off some serious irritation. The little lady was perched on a squatted barrel to make herself look taller, hell _she_ looked younger than _him_. Yet she had the nerve to call him _kid_?

"What's your poison?" she asked propping a hip on the counter. He glanced up at the stairs and she chuckled. "Oh don't you worry 'bout Liam. He's here to make sure business goes smoothly for everyone involved in mine. He's a good guy, really. Just keep yourself on the straight and narrow and you won't have to be on the receiving end of his knuckles."

 _Or just don't get caught._ He lifted a brow at the "woman" and shook his head. "How much for two nights?"

She straightened and her eyes grew a little, like she hadn't expected his voice considering his age and stature. And he could sympathize. You'd expect a rough, deep voice on a big guy, not necessarily on a willowy male, of only 18 summers.

"Um.. three silver." She tucked a stray hair behind one of her ears and held out her hand, "Upfront."

Garrett gave her a hard look, "Three silver? That's robbery." and _he_ would know.

She shrugged and didn't drop her hand. "You'll be protected from the plague here. We've got no rats and you get your own room. Better than most places. But if you want something cheaper, try the docks."

Garrett knew there were other places but he was also near enough to the rich part of town that this spot really was ideal. The protection was worth the money and it wasn't as though he couldn't afford it. He just had trouble letting go of any kind of coin. With a frown he dug out the coin, careful not to let her hear how heavy his purse actually was. In fact, he was careful enough to pull out the equivalent of one silver in coppers, he grumbled as he fished the "last one" out and dropped it on the counter.

She quirked a brow at him because he had avoided her outstretched hand completely.

"I don't have the plague. You'd know it if I did."

He _loved_ when people jumped to the wrong conclusion. He really did. No, he had avoided touching her because he didn't like to be touched and he figured that was a two way street. But if she was going to think that he was worried about the plague, he could get away with acting a little odd. Which covers a multitude of sins.

"No harm in being cautious." he said offhandedly.

She stepped down off the barrel and ducked under an open portion of the bar. "Well come on. Your room's this way." She took the steps two at a time, which was obviously not an easy task for her. Garrett followed quickly, it was clear even though she was short and looked perhaps twelve, the girl was fast. She darted down the hall and he assumed she didn't even realize she was doing it. She stopped in front of a door and fished a key out of her pocket.

The room was on the end at the very back of the inn for which Garrett was grateful. She unlocked it and pushed the door open with a boot. "Here you are. Here's a key. If you're loud I reserve the right to have Liam toss your ass out of the building."

"Good to know." Garrett swiped the key from her hand and smiled as he closed the door behind him. This was going well. If the rest of the job remained on this course, remained smooth, he'd be home before he knew it.

Home and so rich he could retire.

* * *

 _ **Battle Cry**_ \- Skillet.


	6. Ch5: Lost in the Echo

_**Garrett**_ slid the bolt in place over his door then turned the knob and forced his shoulder against the door to test its strength. Not that he expected anyone to come barreling in but luck certainly favors the prepared. The jam creaked a little but overall it held solid. _  
_

Garrett emptied his rucksack onto the bed and selected the unstrung bow he had disguised as a walking stick. He picked the bow string out of its hiding spot in one of the pockets. After a few minutes the bow was restrung and ready for use.

He turned the bow over in his hands, admiring the dark wood. It was the last thing Senior had left him. He ran his thumb over the worn spot where Senior's hand, which was still slightly bigger than his own, used to rest. It would need to be retired soon, the wood was beginning to splinter in places but Garrett had felt it deserved just one more job. He blocked out any memories of Senior and forced himself to dress without thinking about his death.

He needed to focus on the work ahead. He couldn't be clouded by negative emotions and pangs of the past.

When he had finished donning his black clothing and armor, he attached his quiver and hooked the bow to his back. He then packed the rucksack back up and slipped it into the floorboards he had pried up earlier. He slid the boards in place and dropped the shabby carpet over them. It wouldn't hold forever, and someone with a mind that worked similar to his might think to look there, but at least it would give him a measure of peace of mind while he was out and about.

He intended to be gone by tomorrow night anyway.

He tried the window and frowned when it refused to budge. He ran his fingers over the creases that had been painted over but he didn't feel any nail heads or indents from a hammer. He pulled out a short pry bar and slashed it over the crease. It gave way easily and he stabbed the pry bar under the sill and used it to shimmy the window up. It took a bit of elbow grease but eventually the window was open enough for him to crawl through.

He was careful stepping out onto the ledge, as he wasn't sure how long it would support his weight though it seemed sturdy enough. He slowly unfolded to his full height and latched onto the ledge of the window above him. There were a few more floors between him and the top of the building but with his training he was up the side of the building and on the roof without breaking a sweat.

He settled into a crouch and surveyed the buildings around him. The city before him was all at once familiar and foreign. He unfolded the map that had been provided for him. It wasn't incredibly detailed but now that he was in Dunwall the buildings matched up well. His objective was relatively clear.

He had unintentionally picked his hideout well. It was almost smack dab in the middle between the job and the end goal. And both the job and the client's mansions were relatively close to each other. Travel would take no time at all. He could devote it all to the heist.

He was slightly uncomfortable with the instructions but for the payout he wasn't going to argue. Still, he preferred drop locations as opposed to actually meeting his clientele in person. Typically that was Basso's area. But since his fence was stuck back in the City, Garrett was going to have to be his own liaison. And didn't that make him uncomfortable?

Garrett didn't deal with people well. He'd always been a quiet, sarcastic child and adults tend to look down on that. Well... Senior had thought he was funny, but he didn't count. Senior wasn't what people would call a "conventional" guardian. And honestly, Garrett wasn't convinced the man had been entirely human.

Thanks to Garrett's upbringing, he had no filter between his brain and his mouth. And that… tended to create problems.

He sighed and pulled out a rope arrow. He knew this job had been going too smooth. He'd piss off his client, he was sure of it. Maybe it wouldn't matter but then, you never knew with those "refined" types. They loved to smile at your face while sinking a knife into your back.

At least with poor folks you knew where you stood. They didn't have time for all those ridiculous games.

Garrett tracked a fair path up another building with his eyes and loosed a rope arrow at a beam above him. He snatched the other end of the rope midair and tucked the bow back in place.

Whatever. He would handle some discomfort, after all, he was more than capable.

He lifted his weight onto the rope, when he was confidant it and the beam wouldn't snap, he began his assent.

 **XXX**

Garrett smiled at the bracelet perched on a royal blue, velvet pillow on a stand in the middle of the room.

This was too easy.

The guards had been minimal or unaware, there was no type of alarm system, no birds or dogs, the locks were easily cracked, and the trinket he had come for was out in the open.

Rich folks and their damn pride.

That would be their downfall.

Trouble was… As Garrett examined the pedestal a trickle of suspicion stilled his hands. There was _something_ , right? There had to be some kind of alarm on the bracelet dripping with rubies, emeralds, and sapphires, inlaid with both silver and gold, polished to perfection.

But no… something felt… off.

Unless some careless servant put it up without activating anything? Could he be so lucky?

He made a sweep around the stand and saw nothing out of the ordinary. But then traps aren't meant to be easy to see. He checked the pillow, being careful not to actually touch the thing. Nothing. He dropped to the floor, examining the breaks for abnormalities. No. He glared at the ceiling, then the walls, then the door frames. But everywhere he looked, there was nothing he could detect.

So why was he suddenly paranoid?

A sudden chill on his neck had him across the room and on top of a bookshelf within the span of a few heartbeats. His eyes scanned the room but it was empty.

Which was odd… his instincts were usually spot on.

And his instincts were telling him that someone was watching him, not only that but that someone had been in the room with him, even if they weren't currently. Someone had been in there… hadn't they?

He remained still as a statue, only moving to breathe. He shut his eyes and focused on the sounds in the room, the creaking of the floor outside where the guards were patrolling. An odd humming emerged from somewhere in the room and he turned his ear in that direction.

Was it some sort of machine or the heat tunneling in from the pipes? If it was, he was wasting time but he still couldn't make the nagging sensation in the back of his mind quiet, so he stayed put. He opened his eyes slowly and cocked his head to the side when he found the source of the noise.

A large circular charm was hung on the wall above the fireplace, it looked old and it had a design scribed on it. It resembled something similar to a bird's eye and it made Garrett very uncomfortable, which was crazy. It was just a trinket. Still something about it made Garrett feel ill at ease.

The door flung open and a guard marched in. He surveyed the room, though not thoroughly, thank the gods. And marched back out, grumbling as he went, "I put in an order for new boots the other day. What did I get instead? A sock. A single lousy sock!"

As the door whispered shut Garrett smiled, "well that's what you get for working for blue bloods."

He dropped off the bookshelf and found himself over by that odd wall hanging. He wasn't even sure why he was... Yes, drawn to it.

The thing seemed to thrum louder but that was crazy. It was just a trinket. Going against his better judgment, but not able to stop himself, he plucked the thing from the wall and turned it over in his hands. It looked ordinary enough but the more he held it the more antsy he felt. The unease rolled off the thing in waves and curiosity had Garrett pocketing it.

Whatever this was, he wanted it. Even though he still didn't know why.

As he glanced up the room faded to a curious shade of grey. All the color leached out of the room slowly save for a symbol carved crudely into the pedestal. Garrett dropped to a crouch and waved a hand in front of his eyes, dread unfurling in his gut. He wouldn't be able to cope with losing his vision. How had it happened so quickly?

Garrett forced himself to calm when he saw his vision hadn't receded, it simply… changed? Everything was still crisp and clear, the color was just off.

He fished the trinket from his pouch and set it on the floor. Colors slowly came back.

He picked the trinket back up. His world went grey.

Garrett closed his eyes and shook his head at his own stupidity. The trinket was magic. Why he hadn't figured it out before was anyone's guess. Senior taught him a little about magic but since he had so little understanding of it himself, there really wasn't much he could teach.

He snuck around to the front of the pedestal where the sketch glowed a brilliant shade of blue, set inside of a small square. To anyone, it looked like decorative carvings, but there were hundreds of small squares along the face of the pedestal. Playing a hunch, Garrett pressed the one marked and it sunk into the wood freely. The mark disappeared at the same time he heard a subtle _click_ and the symbol transferred to a different square.

So this was the trick.

He plucked away at the tiles until a loud _pop-hissssssss_ shook the pedestal and Garrett bolted back from it in case he had just activated a trap.

Nothing further came from the pedestal for a long moment and Garrett, not wanting to take chances, pulled his bow and a blunt arrow from his quiver. He zeroed in on the trinket and made sure to pull his bow back only half way, it would hit the thing but hopefully it wouldn't damage the bracelet. He backed into a corner and let the arrow fly. It hit the bracelet and sent the pillow flying as well.

The pillow skid into the corner of the room and the arrow had caught the bracelet so that it tangled around the blunt head.

With more pride than he ought to have, he swept up both items and stashed them on his person.

Another job well done, if he did say so himself.

He slipped from the room, quiet as a soft breeze and ducked under a table as he heard a guard approach. The man whistled a tune as he passed, as though he didn't have a care in the world.

 _Yeah well, enjoy it for now, moron._ He thought to himself. _Once your big boss man finds out that bracelet is missing you'll be sacked._

A secret smile played on his lips at that happy little fact. He certainly had many perks to his job, didn't he?

He crept out from under the table and came up to a nearby window. His first stop was his hiding place, to drop off his extra loot, and that was just in case the guy's guards felt like being thorough and checking his pockets. He wasn't going to share jack-shit with anyone but Basso, and even he was a stretch.

Then he was headed to Lord Who-gives-an-actual-damn to collect his earnings. For the rest of his life.

* * *

 _ **Lost in the Echo**_ \- Linkin Park.


	7. Ch6: Middle Fingers

**_Rich_** folks and their damn pride. **  
**

Rich folks and their _damn_ pride.

It would be their downfall. Whether by chance.. Or design.

Garrett would make sure of it.

All things considered, this hadn't been the _worst_ day of Garrett's life. He may count it among the top ten however. As he stared down at the shattered remains of Senior's bow in his hands his chest ached and he tried to figure out where everything had gone so wrong.

He figured if he knew of a way to kick his own ass and still keep moving he would do it in a heartbeat.

That snobbish, boorish, _serpent_ of a human being had turned on Garrett the moment he had the bracelet in his view.

It had all happened so fast, one moment he had slipped into the window of the lord's office, quiet as he needed to. The lord had been pretty preoccupied with the letters before him to be much of a threat. Garrett smirked as he'd crept up behind the man, who was honestly oblivious to Garrett's devices. No wonder the guy didn't want to mess with the assassin. His head likely could have fetched a pretty penny.

He rested himself on the window sill and drew his dagger. Intimidation always worked on the fine folks, it made them much more open to suggestion. Which was exactly where Garrett wanted him to be.

The lord grumbled under his breath as he snapped the papers to attention a couple of times as they drooped in his grip. Garrett began to toss the blade in the air silently and catch it while the other male was preoccupied.

He'd been cocky, his heist going off without a single hitch putting him absolutely on cloud nine.

And he had been ready for his payment.

"I have what you asked for." he smirked as the lord jumped and clenched at his chest while he flopped around in his chair. "Do you have my payment?"

The lord heaved a sigh of relief and lifted his brandy glass to his lips with a shaky hand. "Oh. Garrett." He took a loud sip and hissed, "it's only you."

"Uh-huh. My fee. Do you have it." Garrett was never one for beating around the bush and the lord's nervousness was setting him on edge. It was never smart to hang around when you are a wanted man, even if the authorities here hadn't caught a glimpse of him yet. He preferred to remain a shadow.

"Yes, yes, of course. It's here." he opened the desk drawer beside his leg.

There it was, a large bag stuffed so full the latch looked like it was having a time holding the mouth together.

"And the bracelet?" the lord prompted, eyeing the knife Garrett was still tossing quietly.

Garrett shook his head slowly, not taking his eyes off the lord. "Uh-uh. Open it."

The lord swallowed and straightened in his chair, "You don't trust me?"

"Not as far as I can throw you. The bag, Pendleton."

He huffed and released the clasp. The diamonds, gold, rubies, emeralds and countless other gems flashing in the low light of the office. That's what he liked to see.

The bracelet was in his hand and draped over one finger quick as a flash. "Well, Lord Pendleton, looks like we have ourselves a deal."

"N-n-ot so fast!" the bag was fastened again and the drawer shut. "I need a jeweler to verify that you haven't swapped it for a fake."

Garrett's slow smile grew larger, "You don't trust me?"

"Not on your life."

"Smart man."

Agreeing to that damn jeweler had been the final nail in his casket.

 _Damn it!_

 _Damn it!_

 _Damn it!_

He knocked the back of his head against the side of the building he was leaning on in time with his beratement. The repetitive pain blooming at the base of his skull a brand, a scar to remind him why trusting people was a huge crock of crap. He _knew_ better.

But he'd gone lax.

He'd almost forgotten the sting of betrayal.

He shouldn't have trusted the lord. He should have trusted his instincts, those warning bells that had been driving him insane since the moment he entered the grounds of the lord's manor. He should have insisted on a dead drop. He should have had a fake made. He should have… not been so damn sure of himself.

Yeah well, could'a, would'a, should'a. He was well and royally screwed now, wasn't he?

He shook his head, irritation settling in his bones like and old friend come home. He wished he hadn't allowed the lord's "trusted jeweler" to appraise it. The moment he had handed it over, the jeweler started mewling that it was a fake. The guards had barreled in then with crossbows and guns and swords at the ready. The only thing that saved Garrett? His speed and his instinct to stick by exits, the window he had climbed through he had left open on purpose and due to a long running habit. The second the guards had been called for, Garrett was already halfway out the window.

Obviously he hadn't been quick enough. All it took was one guard, with one simple bullet. The flintlock missed Garrett, thankfully. But his luck had meant the bow's misfortune. The guard must not have been a very good shot otherwise Garrett was sure he wouldn't still be breathing.

Senior's voice thrummed through his mind, _a thief who runs away lives to steal another day._ As a wide eyed child he had learned how true that was, and as an adult it still saved his life on a daily basis. Knowing when to cut your losses and run was the main reason he had lasted as long as he had.

But this loss _hurt_. Tearing his body away from the situation, while it was the smart thing to do, was like leaving one of his arms behind. Excruciating and damn near impossible. _Especially_ since he damn well knew that bracelet was the real deal!

Senior had spent _years_ training him on the difference between real stones and glass imitations. He knew an imitation when he saw one. He knew who he could sell fakes to and who was paranoid enough to check before buying. He'd assumed that was why when the lord had asked if someone could examine it, Garrett hadn't thought twice about handing it over to that sniveling jeweler.

The fact that he had planned to infiltrate the lord's vault once the job was complete and rob the bastard blind was an entirely different matter.

Garrett ripped a strap off his armor and tied the thing around Senior's bow. The logical part of him told him to scrap the thing but… he couldn't leave it behind. He justified shoving it into his quiver by thinking that leaving something behind would be leaving a trail right to him.

He needed to keep moving, he'd had his doubts that the lord would send his bodyguards this far after him. That was, however, before he'd caught sight of them tracking him a few streets back. That lord wanted him dead. It looked like he was going to great lengths to achieve that goal.

"Release the dogs!" a voice bellowed from below. Soon after the hounds barking and howling carried up to him.

Well that just made things more complicated.

Garrett couldn't risk staying to catch his breath. He was exerting himself which meant his scent was that much stronger and that would lead those dogs right to him. He suffered no illusions, he wouldn't survive if they caught up to him. He resolved to double back later, get his things and catch a boat home but he'd have to lay low for a bit. To let the chaos die down before he attempted that.

He grunted as he pushed off the chimney he was resting on. His feet were quick and sure as always as he padded over to a ledge and gauged the distance between buildings. He could make it with a running start. He jogged over to the opposite end of the rooftop and tore a path over the short expanse, with a practiced leap he was quickly on the other rooftop and rolling to his feet.

Keeping his momentum up, he raced over the next dozen or so buildings before needing a brief break. He ducked under a pavilion that seemed to be where some rich sodder used to sit to keep themselves cool in the summer. He caught his breath and shoved off again, not wanting to stick to any one location for too long.

He'd made an excellent gap between him and the bodyguards and in a short period of time, though he noticed the buildings had begun a steady decline in majesty. Where there had once obviously been sprawling courtyards and lush gardens, overgrowth and flood waters had taken its place. Windows were smashed both into buildings and out, and most if not all had fallen into disrepair. Perhaps the most telling decline, was the rank stench of bodies permeating the air.

He'd stumbled into Dunwall's common grave. The place where people where left to die.

He scrunched his nose as the smell seeped into his mask but he didn't remove it. If it smelled that bad with a filter, he didn't want to know what the scent was like full force.

Garrett wished he was more surprised. But the truth was, when plague threatens the rich folks, the poor are suddenly less than useless. And they were more often than not cut off from the fine upstanding citizens with fat purses. Kindling for the fire as it were.

"The wheel keeps turning, never anything new." he muttered to himself.

He'd seen it before. When he was young Senior had told him stories of the jobs he'd gone on where the sick were locked up and left to die. The people he'd put to rest to ease their suffering.

Garrett grinned at the thought, after death the loved ones of the deceased tend to make them into heroes. Perch them on a pedestal and cast a golden glow on all their actions.

Garrett was no exception, it seemed. His mentor had only gone into to those places for one thing. The gold everyone else left behind. And he'd killed those people to save his own hide. Given the same upbringing and circumstances Garrett likely would follow the same coarse. They were no better than the people who had put them in those places.

He decided the quarantine would make a suitable hiding place, for the time being at least. With any luck the bodyguards would track him to this place, cut their own loses and drop the search. After all, a quarantine is made to keep each side from entering the other under normal circumstances, they may as well count him as a dead body right then and there. Besides all that, he was quick and quiet enough to be counted among the ghosts that lurked there. And the danger from dead ones was minimal. Ideal for hiding.

The pride of the rich.

Making them so deliciously predictable.

Before he left he was going to stir the pot. That asshole wouldn't remain in power for long. Garrett believed in giving people their proper due. Since it seemed the universe liked to skip over some folks.

He didn't mind being the tool Karma used.

He was snapped from his plans when a gust of wind intensified the deads' rank odor. He held his gag back and attempted to find a home, or apartment, or _hovel_ , with unbroken windows and doors he could stake a brief claim on. He wanted to remain close to the rooftops, he had a feeling the smell was worse the farther down he traveled. Besides, having a birds eye view of things was always a good plan.

He had little in the way of options from what he could tell. Everything looked pretty well condemned. Garrett chose a building at random and was soon confronted with collapsed floors.

He pursed his lips and felt his head shake slightly as he toed a piece of what looked like it used to be wall over the gap. As it plummeted down the hole Garrett muttered to himself, "if only I had wings...no not even then."

A noise from below had him freezing momentarily to stare into the murky waters below. He couldn't be sure but he was half convinced it had been a moan. Like there was someone down there… someone in pain.

Or dying.

His money was on the later if anything at all.

When no more noise permeated the air, he decided it was safe to venture on. If there was someone down there he may well have scared them off. And that was fine by him. The less he had to deal with the surviving plague victims the better.

The next building had a floor at least and some windows that weren't totally demolished but the door had been smashed off the hinges and propped on it side blocking the entrance. There was a bloodstained mattress leaning limply in the corner of the room like a dead man and a curio cabinet pitched into the other wall of the hallway. Someone sure made it out of this place in a hurry. Which was good. It meant no one would be coming back for a while, if at all.

Garrett didn't even entertain the idea of the mattress, not with the plague. Plague likely could be spread through the air but fluids seemed like the greater possibility. Instead he set up camp beside one of the windows that had somehow remained intact. He didn't plan on staying long. But even a day off those private guard's map would do enough that he could make a break for it.

He was so fucking done with Dunwall.

 **XXX**

Lord Pendleton paced back and forth in his office muttering obscenities until finally he pinned a hot glare on Pierre from across the room.

"You're absolutely _certain_ this bracelet is an imitation?"

"On my honor, my lord." Pierre lied as he bowed to hide his smile.

"That cheat! I want to see his entrails!"

"The guards will see to that, my lord." Pierre assured. "I've sent instructions that they not return until the thief is found. I even took the liberty of having some of your prized wolfhounds join the hunt. He won't be able to hide out for long."

Lord Pendleton stopped by the window behind his desk and picked up a small silver dagger that the thief had dropped in the confusion. "Thank you, Pierre. You are and always have been a lasting friend." he sighed heavily and placed the dagger neatly on his desk along with all his perfectly placed knickknacks and books and papers. He flopped into his chair and fingered the glass stones of the imitation bracelet.

"I just don't understand. He was offered a King's ransom."

"Greed knows no bounds, my lord."

Pendleton let out a sad hum. "I suppose." then he waved Pierre away, "I need some time alone, my friend."

"As you command, my lord. Do try to get some rest." Pierre pivoted and closed the door quietly behind him.

As an avid chess player, Pierre often enjoyed using people as though they were pawns of his own personal board. Pendleton and the thief had played their parts perfectly. He had been manipulating people long enough to know how they would react. The thief was so certain the bracelet was real because, well, it had been. But Pendleton wouldn't be able to tell the difference if his life had depended on it.

Pierre had been slowly building trust with Pendleton for years, so obviously he would have believed any lie that crossed Pierre's lips.

When the guards had arrived, it had been a simple matter to swap the real one out for a fake he had made just a week ago.

The thief had fled to save his own life, Pendleton would have his men track him down and kill him, silencing the only person who could know about this. And Pierre would get away with the jeweled bracelet.

He smiled at himself as he placed his hand over the pocket with the bracelet weighing it down. So clean. So perfect.

He almost felt bad for having told Pendleton about the bracelet in the first place. About making Pendleton think he needed it so badly he would hire a shady thief, known for his reliability. About fabricating a sad letter on Pendleton's behalf, and luring the thief in with it. About tricking them both.

He chuckled as he left the mansion.

Almost.

* * *

 _ **Middle Fingers**_ \- Missio.


	8. Ch7: Welcome to the Family

_**The** _sound of nails scratching over hardwood had Garrett awake and a dagger in his hand within the span of a breath. He stayed absolutely still as he honed his ears on the soft noise. A sharp breathing joined the sicking chorus of scratches.

"It's here-must be here-in the dirt-buried deep-find it-find it fast-mine-mine-mine."

Garrett kept his lids down but peaked through his lashes at the sound, curiosity getting the better of him.

A wild haired woman, down on all fours, was at the far end of the hall, pawing at the floor with bloodied fingers. Both old and new blood streaked down her chest in a gruesome pattern. Not as though she had killed someone but rather it had wept from a wound possibly underneath her shirt. Her clothes hung off her bony body awkwardly as though she had lost a lot of weight very quickly.

The smell she brought in with her had him creeping out of her sight.

She reeked of death.

"Warm-warm and soft-delicious-fresh-find it fast-fast..."

 _Shit!_ He had assumed the quarantine was because of this 'rat plague' everyone was so worried about. Not because of the undead lurking, coveting the flesh of the living.

Well, that just made things more complicated.

Garrett ghosted back to the rooftop outside and climbed up the adjacent building.

"Come out, come out…." the undead's voice sang through the wind, "tasty thing…"

Garrett shook his head as he continued on, "In your dreams, lady." he muttered to himself. If the quarantine was filled with the undead he was going to have a harder time than he had originally thought staying here for more than a night. He could always double back, he could still see the city proper from where he had hidden.

The problem would be those damn dogs.

All it would take would be one of them catching his scent. They would find him in no time at all. Especially since he was fighting some pretty severe exhaustion.

Keeping alert would be key, that is, if he wanted to make it out of Dunwall alive.

He was a night owl by nature and circumstance and, as luck would have it, he usually could refresh himself with only brief periods of rest. It was almost sunrise though, and he hadn't slept while on that damn ship. His limbs were quivering in warning. He knew he'd pushed his body too far. He was so eager for that gold he hadn't taken the chance to rest or eat and his body was through playing along with his self destructive behavior.

Almost as though it had noticed he was finally paying it due attention, his stomach let out a howl that he attempted to muffle with his hands.

 _That_. That was the real reason he never went on jobs on an empty stomach. Had anyone been near, he'd be caught by now.

He cursed and fished in his pockets for anything he may have stowed away on his person because it would be a cold day in hell before he found food here. The undead don't typically cook their food. Usually they were pretty set on getting a bite to-go, and then finding their next victim.

As he berated himself for not thinking ahead and having anything on him, however, a smell wafted to him. A smell that stood apart from the murky waters and dead bodies, mostly due to its appealing nature.

It was cinnamon.. And sugar, and fresh bread.

Who the hell was baking out here?

Knowing full well this could be yet another trap but being too hungry to care, he followed his nose for a lack of any other means to find the place that smelled so wonderful. He stayed high, worried he'd run into more undead before the night was over if he wasn't careful. About three blocks from where he had started he noticed chimneys, many of them, had smoke billowing from them. As though twenty different hearths had cheery little fires in them.

He wondered if he had stumbled onto a small clutch of people who had been able to keep the undead at bay and somehow survive in this dense pit of sewage.

Survive and be well-off enough to be baking sweet cinnamon cakes.

He scaled up to one of the highest rooftops and scanned the area to make sure he was alone. Not wanting to take chances, he hovered over to one of the chimneys and hid behind it.

The busted up building next door was lit from within so his eyes needed a second to adjust but when they did he caught sight of his baker. There he was. A man in dark blue clothing pulling a pan filled with pastries out of the oven before him. He set it on a counter and waved his mitten clad hand over his mildly burnt creation. "Damn…" he muttered as he shook the pan to loosen them.

A chuckle near Garrett had him ducking back behind the chimney.

A man in a gas mask and clad in similar attire as the baker appeared around the opposite side of the chimney Garrett had used as shelter. Luckily, it seemed as though he had been more interested in the baker so he hadn't seen Garrett. He sat on the ledge and whistled to get the baker's attention.

"Thomas, my man. Give up. You're a shit baker."

At the other man's goading Thomas slapped the mitten on the table beside him but didn't bother to look up. "Back off, Chester."

"If you want her in your bed, Thomas, just throw her over your shoulder. She might like it."

Thomas' expression grew even more sour, "Didn't I just say back off?"

"Need some pointers? I was pretty good at it before I joined up."

The man named Thomas had a face somewhere in the mid-twenties range. His hair was tucked back and in a hood but the golden strands peeked from their confines and curled in small wisps around his neck. His eyes were a deep blue they were near black and his skin was pale enough he was damn near see-through. Not that Garrett was really one to talk, but still.. His nose was crooked, like it had been broken a number of times and not set right. Still, the guy was handsome but only in his uniqueness. It was hard to believe he had trouble catching a girl's attention.

Baking didn't look like something the guy was accustomed to, nor something he particularly enjoyed.

Then again, women did funny things to a man's mind. Men end up doing and saying things they'd never dreamed of before. And all in the name of making her happy.

"Baking or chasing skirts?"

"You _know_ I never did no baking, Thomas. I know how to charm my way into a lady's be––"

"––Yes, yes. So you've said." a small flush crept up the guy's cheeks, "She likes them. The cinnamon buns, I mean. She…. she smiles when I give them to her. She doesn't smile enough."

The other guy, Chester, shook his head. "She's got you wrapped around her little finger. You better watch that."

Thomas turned away and from Garrett's perspective he could see he had just palmed a blade. A massive blade, the length of his forearm. "That a threat, Chester?" his tone was innocent enough but with his index finger petting the blade's handle, Garrett knew the wrong answer would mean the other man's death.

Chester snorted, "naw, you don't gotta worry about me. But you know… not everyone is as content in their current position as I am. Know what I mean? I'm just saying, be careful who you let see your weakness."

"She's _not_ a weakness."

"Sure. And that's not a tray of cinnamon buns on the table."

Thomas stiffened and sheathed his knife. He turned back to Chester who propelled himself off the ledge and landed —loudly— on the ground in front of the table. "I almost slit your throat." There was no remorse in Thomas' tone and the other man didn't seem offended.

Instead, he clapped Thomas on the shoulder and started leading him away from the room. "I know. You want a beer? I could really use one right about now."

They both chatted down the hallway, it was friendly enough but… Garrett couldn't help but shake his head. What the actual hell is wrong with people in this city? If someone admitted to him they had been planning on killing him, he'd be as good as gone.

Not palling around with them.

But that was neither here nor there. His main concern at that moment was stealing one of those pastries. He never particularly cared for sweets but beggars certainly couldn't be choosers. And if he got something in his stomach, he'd be able to study these people a little better. See if he could camp out there, under everyone's noses just for a few nights.

He listened for anyone who might have plans on using the small rundown kitchen, but the building was serene in spite of where it sat. He slipped over the side of the building and lowered himself down slowly. The only reason he'd been able to pull that off so easily was because the buildings had walkways that couldn't be seen from the rooftops. It was a simple thing to skirt across the planks and into the small kitchen.

And with no one around, swiping a pastry was as simple as you could ask for. He ducked under one of the tables in the corner of the room so that he could see the whole of the room, including all the exits.

The cake tasted dry and was the messiest thing he'd ever had the displeasure of swallowing. He stole the mitten off the table to wipe his hands and face off. Then wiped the crumbs off his clothes.

Poor girl. A baker Thomas was not. No wonder he couldn't turn her head.

Still, his stomach stopped cramping and gurgling after a moment of rest and when he was confident that it would behave and not give him away he crept over to the door.

It was important that he figure out just what these people would allow. If his presence didn't bother them, camping out here would be simple. He was quite good at manipulating people, it was just a matter of finding out what mask he needed to wear. Should he run into a female chances were good he could act like a hapless teenager, usually that got him enough sympathy for a bed for a night, or a real meal.

Which would hopefully be just enough time for the Guard to give up.

Garrett crawled out from under the table and whispered across the room, silent as a shadow. He was skilled at avoiding loose floorboards, or shattered glass. Deft when it came to melting into the shadows, breathing in time with any person in his vicinity. Tricking them into thinking they were, indeed, alone. He loved outwitting people. Making them think their precious things had simply gone missing. Because he'd learned to be apt at avoiding detection from normal people, he had no concerns that someone here might catch a glimpse of him.

He skirted along the shabby carpet and slipped out a window propped open with a small plank. He found himself in a small courtyard. Likely it used to be a garden but time and absence of a caretaker had long since allowed the plants to wither where there wasn't enough sunshine. He checked around for another pathway grinning when the small window caught his attention. It was open, on the building opposite him and soft voices carried through it. It was higher up the wall and he needed to climb up a pipe to reach it.

But then he was through the portal and in another darkened hallway. There was a man in a gas mask patrolling the halls but he paid Garrett no mind. Mostly because Garrett was crouched behind an upturned couch.

When the guard stepped away Garrett saw something the thief in him simply couldn't ignore. In a large, octagonal shaped room there was a table, and on that table there were glittering treasures. Earrings and bracelets, necklaces, pocket watches and more gold than a guy could possibly pass up. And it was all newly polished and just begging to be snatched.

The room itself seemed to be empty but there were too many doors to watch. At least four that he could see from where he hid. The patrolling guard didn't seem to be much trouble, at least, not when he propped himself against a windowpane and twisted his chin to one side, cracking his neck loudly. He rolled his shoulders then twisted his chin the opposite way, a loud pop followed.

He was tired. Probably groggy and trying to find ways to keep himself awake.

The City Watch were the same way. Only this poor bastard wasn't grumbling under his breath about his position in life.

Garrett found himself grinning, he'd be slower than anyone else. He'd be the easiest person to avoid.

He did notice another guard patrolling the small apartment on the second story of the, otherwise open, room who might present a problem. However, if Garrett was able to get across the room without his noticing, that table couldn't be seen by that guard.

The flaws in that room were nice ones. It certainly wasn't built with thieves in mind but there were plenty of nooks and crannies to hide in. Whatever the place used to be didn't matter, it seemed to be a sort of base of operations now.

Perhaps that's what it took to survive living so near the undead. Hoping the quarantine would be lifted before you were forced to join their ranks. Which made sense, to survive out here, people needed to be smart and they needed to plan their lives around the whims of the predators out there. It was either that, or become prey themselves.

Garrett watched from the shadows, unmoving, barely breathing. Until the two men began to create their own little patterns. The tired one would walk his assigned area, lean on a wall or door and rest until he began to sleep. Only waking when his knees gave up the good fight and he'd begin to slide down the wall.

The other one was distracted in a different way, a nervous way. He would sweep his area over and over perhaps four or five times, then settle in his chair, busied his hands for a moment or two before wearing a tread in the carpet again.

Garrett waited patiently until they both had their backs turned. He shot across the carpet on the balls of his feet, quietly racing to the nook under the stairs. He settled in and froze, his heart hammering in his chest and ears, the thrill of exertion tingling throughout his entire body.

The tired one leaned on a wall again. And the creaking from the floor above Garrett told him the nervous one was still doing his laps for the moment. Garrett was so close to the gold on the table he could smell it. Hear the ringing of the coins in his ears. But he held off. He forced his body to remain where it was, rooted in place.

For no other reason save his gut told him to.

His intuition had had to be trained, for the most part. But there were some feelings one simply couldn't explain. They cropped up out of nowhere, a secret sense that something in the world simply wasn't as it should be. And until that feeling passed, it was simply not worth moving.

After a breath or two the one solid, wooden door flung open and two men in masks marched through. The obviously lower ranking man trailing the other, and feeding the other one information, "... care of. Quinn and Thorpe are on their way now to collect the reward. They should be here within the hour."

"And how did our boys fair?" the leader's voice was hard as he glanced at the table and instead moved toward a chalkboard with papers littering it.

"They raised a few alarms. Nothing major. Anyone who was close enough to see them was quickly eliminated."

 _Eliminated?_ Were the undead so troublesome that they needed to go to such measures? And what was this about alarms? Unless there were a few still yet to be triggered, set up from when the fat cats still pretended to care. But then… what would it matter if they went off?

"I thought they were doing better." The leader prodded.

"They are, Daud."

The man called Daud hummed and shook his head, not looking at his subordinate. "If they were doing better, they wouldn't have had to kill more than just their assigned target."

The subordinate was quiet for a long moment. "They did get the job done. And well. If you would like me to punish them still…"

"No." Daud crossed his arms and glared at the other man. "What I _want_ is for them to be effective. Stumbling through a job blindly is not acceptable. I want as little wake as we can manage. I want people to assume some of our targets were tragic accidents. From now on this barreling in, rifles at the ready, is not going to cut it with me.

"Inform the men." his voice was so cold, it was hard not to squirm under the man's glare. "From this moment on, you work silently. And trust me, I will personally deal with any who do not step up to my standard."

The other man gave a slight bow, clapping his fist to his chest and barking, "Yes sir."

He marched out and the door clipped shut behind him. Leaving the cold leader brooding in the corner. He reached up and snatched a paper off the board. He then glanced over his shoulder at the chair there. He quickly hooked a foot behind one of its legs, gripped the backrest and using the leg as an anchor, turned it on its heel to face him.

He settled in the chair silently and began to read the flyer.

Garrett suppressed the urge to curse. He couldn't possibly get away with robbing this man blind. A table that was loaded with trinkets suddenly becoming empty before his eyes? No way would _this_ man shrug that off. Not willing to give up, he convinced himself that he might be able to pick _something_ off.

But he'd have to be careful.

He marked where all the men were before he crept out from under the stairs. Lazy one, sleeping. Nervous one, pacing. Leader, occupied with his back turned to Garrett.

He glanced over the table and swiped the gold necklace with most gems and a few of the signet rings that would fetch a hefty price. It would not even come near to the losses he suffered recently but it would have to do. He slipped under the table and smirked as he noticed the heavy purse looped on the belt of the leader.

Well… if you're not smart with your coin, you don't deserve it.

He sneaked over to the chair, his tiny dagger at the ready. He gently cradled the bag in one hand and maneuvered the knife in the other. The dagger was his backup but it was still just as sharp as his old one, which he planned to go back for, thank you very much. As the leader adjusted himself in his seat, Garrett clipped the purse off its strings and stuffed it in his pocket.

Because he had moved with the other man, his mark hadn't felt the snip or the weight change. And that left Garrett with the prize.

He ducked back under the table and made for one of the glass paned doors. The one the sleeping guard sat by. He was as good as gone as he slipped past the man.

Would wonders never cease?

This night hadn't been a total loss after all.

 **XXX**

Daud clipped the paper back up on the job board ahead of him, deciding he'd had enough of that night and that all he really wanted to get accomplished was studying the back of his eyelids for a while. He linked his hands together and stretched his arms up to the ceiling, his shoulders giving a satisfying pop. He shook his hands out and headed up the stairs, rubbing at his sore neck along the way. He'd been up for, what now? Had it really been almost thirty-two hours?

His men were getting sloppy and he'd felt the need to get personal with more than one time-consuming job. He needed to manage his people better. He needed more men who crack the whip, show the rest how to do things right and worked well together not against one another. Fights were becoming more and more apparent and tensions were running high. Moral had dipped. _Outsider's eyes,_ people were _work_.

It was definitely time to start trimming the fat.

As he made it up to his bed on the second landing, he shelved that line of thinking for the time being. Rest was what he needed now and he'd be damned if anyone got in his way.

He removed his belt and weapons and mask into a large trunk beside his bed and was in the process of kicking off his boots when something caught his eye. A small strip of leather was laying on the ground in front of his boots. He groaned as he bent over, still seated on his bed, to retrieve it. The cord was tied off in the center and the two tails were frayed. As though they'd been… cut.

Worst of all, He recognized it.

He shot upright and focused on the table downstairs. He channeled the mark on his hand and suddenly he was perched on that table the trinkets on it tinkling with the sudden weight change. He'd not left the flooded district for at least twenty-four hours and he'd used his gold within that time. Besides, there was no way one of his men had had the balls to cut his purse. So that meant there was a little rat hiding here.

He channeled the mark on his hand again, this time a gruntal voice chanted at the base of his skull and the colors of the world dimmed. Only primary colors stood out among the sea of grey and those only appeared with living things. With the Vision in place he could see footsteps echoing across hardwood, like ripples in an otherwise placid pond. The voices of those around him heightened and the heartbeats of all living things thundered in his ears.

Daud sneered as he caught sight of a small figure huddled in a hallway a few floors up from him. Whoever this little rat was chose the wrong night to steal from him.

Daud dropped off the table and clapped his hand on the hardwood, startling the amateur recruit across the way back to consciousness. "Yes sir?" he asked, panicked as he walloped an overeager fist over his heart.

 _Yeah, I'll deal with you later._ "There is a thief among us. I want you to rally some men, find him, and bring him back to me _alive_. I want the pleasure of killing him myself. Tell anyone with you, should he die, they are mine."

The assassin nodded and disappeared into a handful of black mist.

That rat was going to regret the day he slinked in here and decided to steal from the Knife of Dunwall.

 **XXX**

Garrett knew he was in for a world of trouble when the guards went from aloof patrol to an all out manhunt. It was like someone had thrown a switch. One moment there were absolutely no issues. The next, the halls were _swarmed_ with men in masks, massive daggers drawn, and taunting voices promising death should anyone find him.

But he'd been so _careful_ , he ranted in his mind. He'd remained quiet, hadn't take risks he normally would have seen as challenges, and above all he had taken his time. What had he done wrong? Where had he screwed up? Or were they looking for someone else?

He sincerely hoped it was the latter as he hid in an available cupboard in one of the rundown hallways these men used as a base.

Now that they were actively searching for someone he had little chance of one of them taking pity on him. His best bet now was to get out of this gang's territory, find a place he could seal up tighter than the last one, and hunker down as best he could. He'd obviously made enough waves.

Tonight was just _not_ his night.

As the room cleared he crept into the hall and climbed on top of the cupboard he'd been hiding in. From there, up near the ceiling a large bundle of pipes trailed out of the room and up into another one. The higher he got the better. Rarely did guards look up, thinking their targets would be hiding under or below their noses. While that worked in some cases, usually staying above it all was the wisest course of action.

Above him, he could see past the hole in the room. His goal stood out, a ladder that led to another rundown portion of the building. If he could make it there, he'd be home free.

He slipped onto the pipes and froze as they creaked under his weight.

His heart galloped in his chest but he held his hands out to his sides and attempted to breathe slowly. The pipes had seemed steady enough but it was entirely possible he had misjudged. And even if they were reliable, if they were loud he'd have to find another way out. He chanced a single step forward, testing the waters.

Bad test.

The shrill warning of metal scraping metal echoed through the room.

Garrett cursed as three different gang members filed in, all armed with pistols. "Looks like we found our rat, boys." one of them chuckled.

"Come on down or we shoot." he warned. Garrett shut his eyes and shook his head.

But he had not come this far to get caught now. He made a show of putting one hand on the pipes underneath his feet, only to get close enough to his flash grenades.

With a flick of his wrist, the grenade popped as it shattered, the blast no doubt lighting the room like high noon, but doing no real damage to the men. Three shots rang out but he was already in the other room and halfway to the ladder before they had begun to fire.

Home free and not a scratch on him, he thought as he ascended the ladder, and pulled himself onto the roof.

As he headed toward the ledge, a sting in his thigh brought his attention downward.

The last thing he saw before dropping to his knees was a dart sticking out of his leg.

 **XXX**

His body came alive purely due to the torrential downpour of ice cold water being dumped on his head, and by extension the rest of his body as well. His shoulders and abs and legs seized up, his gasp loud as gunfire in his ears. He shook his head, his body hanging on his muscleless arms, being spread out on either side of him. He blinked hard as the water burned his eyes and slinked its cold tendrils down his neck and body.

"Have a nice dream, boy?"

The voice was that gravelly, threatening whisper he remembered that gang leader had.

His throat clenched in panic. _Damn_ … he'd been caught.

"I'm sure it was a pleasant one. Sleep darts are very effective, especially on scrawny little tykes like you." forcing his eyes open, he found Daud seated in a chair across the way in the odd office he'd cut through earlier. His back was to the fireplace, making him look like the flames were burning on his shoulders. It had the added effect of darkening the harsh features of his face.

So he wanted Garrett scared?

Garrett smirked darkly and calmed his chilled breathing. No way would he give this man what he wanted. He needed enough of a distraction to get away. But in the meantime it was smart to stay alive.

"Did someone send you?" the leader prompted but Garrett simply raised a brow at him and attempted to quell the shivers quaking his shoulders.

The man frowned and threaded his fingers together and rested them on his stomach. "Have it your way." he nodded and the men holding him both gripped his shoulders tighter as a masked man slugged his fist into Garrett's side.

Pain echoed through his whole body, the swing making like a sledgehammer on his flank. His eyes bugged out, the breath he'd had in his lungs made a break for it as he crumpled forward in a feeble effort to protect himself.

"Where are my manners?" Daud chuckled as Garrett finally forced enough air into his lungs to groan. "Little rat, meet Zachary. He has fists of iron or so I'm told, and I'd imagine about a hundred more pounds than _you_ have backing him."

He nodded again and this time Zachary's fist connected with Garrett's left eye. The force backing that fist was so much, the man holding Garrett's left arm stumbled forward. His head and neck _throbbing_ , Garrett forced himself to keep his composure. He channeled his anger, which was easy considering the amount of pain ebbing through his body, and suddenly the burn in his chest was all he could feel.

He took a few solid breaths and snapped his eyes up to Daud.

And smiled.

Daud's expression remained unchanged. The fist came again and again. Each time it struck Garrett barely felt it, though the men holding him were certainly struggling to keep him upright. Until finally Daud… started laughing.

It was a husky, brutal sound. And Garrett only assumed it was laughter because of the mirth on the man's face. That, and the fact that every gang member in the room stopped what they were doing to focus on him. "Enough, Zachary. We won't get anywhere with him if he's dead." he commanded.

He rose from his chair and slowly prowled over to Garrett. "Look at you." he mused, indicating the blood Garrett had dripping down his face. "You must know there are other means of torture, boy. And I know them all."

Garrett said nothing, though smiling at this point was out of the question as one side of his face was already starting to swell.

"But it won't work with you, will it?" Daud gave Garrett a once over and smiled. "I have the feeling you don't talk much anyway. Do you think defying me will buy you time?"

 _Ah! So you read people too._ Picking up on that Garrett tried to clear his head of the fog, he needed time to figure out how to trick this bastard.

"You are new here, aren't you? I've never seen you in my city before and trust me boy, I'd remember." he chuckled darkly as he unsheathed his dagger. "Which means you don't know who I am. Is that right?"

Garrett scoffed, "You're a lucky old bastard, that's all."

"Luck has nothing to do with it. You were caught because you were sloppy. Had you known who I was you never would have come here."

Garrett spat blood on the ground by Daud's feet and glared up at him. "I'm not sloppy. I'm a master of my craft. You're just a thug with underlings who don't measure up in your eyes."

If looks could kill, Garrett would be six feet under. But thankfully his peepers weren't so powerful and the look was simply that. He slowly prowled around the room, idly toying with the blade by his side. "So that's when you snuck in here."

Garrett swallowed. He meant to goad the man, get under his skin, keep him talking. Not tell him when Garrett had stolen his coin.

"I'm curious as to who you think I am, boy." he said quietly. He silently tossed the dagger in the air without watching it and caught it, once, twice, a third time.

Much like Garrett had done with the lord. He realized bitterly.

Daud was still attempting to scare him. Best not give him what he wants. "You're a gang lord."

Daud's chuckle was a loud, joyless 'ha!' "You really have no idea what den of vipers you've fallen into, have you little rat?" Then he... disappeared. One second he was there and in the span of a heartbeat he was gone. A flash of black smoke taking his place.

Garrett's eyebrows married and he blinked a couple of times, sure he'd been knocked in the head too many times to be seeing things clearly. But then Daud's face appeared before him, rematerializing from black smoke as though he were... piecing himself together again.

Garrett leapt back to the extent he could. Daud's hand clamped around his neck and forced him into a wall, he drew his dagger up and pressed it to Garrett's throat. Too terrified to keep up his pretense, Garrett gasped and froze not able to fight or flee. "And since death doesn't seem to frighten you, perhaps loss of your livelihood will."

Garrett's heart stopped in his chest. The man couldn't be serious? Could he?

"How's a thief steal with no hands, men?"

The men holding him flattened his arms against the wall behind him. Exposing his wrists to Daud. "He doesn't." the men chuckled.

And Garrett, in a panic, lurched forward and head-butted the bastard.

Daud backed off quickly, gripping his nose and Zachary was back with his "fists of iron" knocking the sense out of Garrett with one blow.

As Garrett hung there panting, he braced himself for more pain, his shoulder drawing up toward his head in a lame attempt at protection. But when nothing came he chanced a look at Daud who was grinning at him with bloodied teeth and a hand on Zachary's shoulder. "You wanna keep your hands?"

Garrett nodded because this piss-poor excuse of outlasting the man had run its course. Somewhere along the line Daud had seen his hand and knew he'd been bluffing. A good poker player conceded when beat.

"Then you'll work for me." Daud sneered. "For one year. As a thief. But you're mine. You make a break for it. You try to defy me. I'll remove those precious hands of yours, seal your wounds shut, and give you to the Guard. Don't test me boy. I want my men loyal."

A year?

An entire year?

Garrett glanced at his hand wrapped in the thug's grip. Daud already knew what he would choose. He simply wanted to hear Garrett say it aloud. "And… if I don't perform to your liking I take it?"

"Obviously. You said yourself, you are a master thief, aren't you? Or are you full of it?"

Garrett shook his head. "I am a master thief."

"Then I expect nothing less than your best. Now if you perform well and you adhere to my standards, I'll consider shortening your sentence. Cross me though? I'll add time." the treat in Daud's voice was tangible. "Now, do we have a deal?"

 _Like I really have a choice?_ "Yeah… fine… we have a deal. I'll be your thief for a year..."

"That's what I like to hear." he sauntered over to the table were Garrett had swiped the trinkets from Daud earlier and snatched the quiver that was resting there. Obviously, they had stripped him of his weapons while his was down for the count. The broken bow hung out of it loosely and the belt full of Garrett's hard-earned weapons was retrieved from there as well.

"Now then." he tossed the belt in the hearth and that piqued Garrett's interest. "You won't need any of this anymore, I'll ensure you have the tools you require." he pulled the bow out and frowned at it as he tossed the quiver still filled with arrows into the fire. He then folded the broken halves of the bow likely to allow it to fit in the hearth.

"Wait!" Garrett shouted and Daud glanced over at him holding the ruined bow over the flames. "Stop! Please!"

He lifted the bow in askance but thankfully didn't drop it. Garrett could see Senior's hand print on the leather grip. He had a chance to save it. A small chance. He wasn't ready to let Senior go. So naturally, he had to try. Even if that meant giving Daud a little more power over him.

Garrett wetted his lips and shook his head, "Don't burn that. I can… fix it. I want…" He shook his head, rephrasing himself, knowing Daud wouldn't give one good god-damn about his wants. "I _need_ that..."

"What? This useless thing?" Daud scoffed.

Garrett swallowed hard, and hoped to hell the man wasn't going to suddenly change his mind… again… a year would be hell but he'd be able to handle it. Any more than that… Garrett wasn't so sure. "Yes. It… it's important to me."

A raised brow was his only reply and Garrett knew he'd screwed himself harder when a smile graced the man's lips. "Is it?"

 _Burn anything else. Burn everything else, but please… please don't take Senior's last legacy away._

The words were simple enough.

If only his voice hadn't made a break for it.

"Your old life is over, boy. You're mine now." Daud cemented that statement by chucking the bow into the fire.

" _No!_ " Garrett lunged against the two thugs holding him, he didn't make it far, but his strength surprised them enough that he pushed them forward a few paces. His heart withered as the bow blackened and the bowstring let out an eerie screech before snapping in the hearth. He wilted as the leather grip began to melt under the heat.

It was beyond saving even if he had been able to get it out.

It was crazy but Garrett could feel the flames on his skin as though he was the one in the fire. "...no…" he choked, his voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes drifted to Daud, looking rather pleased with himself. Hatred surged through his body, making his skin tingle, his hands curl into fists, and his body enlivened, supercharged by adrenaline. "You _bastard!_ "

His outburst didn't faze Daud at all. He marched over to Garrett and snatched his chin, angling his face up. "Just look at that defiance. I wonder how long you'll take to break?"

Garrett stayed silent. Speaking fueled this bastard and he was done giving him the satisfaction.

"I suppose I'll find out soon enough." Daud nodded at the men holding Garrett aloft. "A couple of days in one of the cells should cool that temper of his. Be sure to nail it shut. I'll just bet this kid knows how to pick locks."

He smiled at Garrett again before releasing his chin. "And kid?"

Garrett could feel his nostrils flare at Daud's tone. His words made Garrett ready to put the man's head through a damn wall.

"Welcome to the family."

* * *

 ** _Welcome to the Family_ **\- Avenged Sevenfold.


	9. Ch8: I Will Not Bow

_**Garrett** _saw red as he was flung over the much larger male's shoulder. As his back made impact with the floor, he forced himself to twist his body into a roll even though his lungs and muscles _screamed_ in protest. He had enough momentum to roll maybe three times, he came up short, those _godforsaken_ loud boots catching at the toes on a rogue gap in the planks.

As his world started to go dark one of his ankles twisted in an awkward direction, the jolt of pain kept him from passing out. He flipped onto his hands and knees and unhooked his foot from the tear in the floor, the pain rocketed up to his hip but he forced himself to ignore it.

He was _not_ going to lose to this meat-headed bastard.

A deep chuckle resonated from the assassin's chest as Garrett repeatedly tried to push himself up onto his feet and failed. He fell in a useless heap for the third time, his muscles protesting with every breath he took.

A boot barreled into his side, knocking the wind out of him again and sending him sailing across the room.

"What's ta matter, boy?" The assassin mocked, "thought you were 'apposed ta be good or something. Not some tit-sucking pussy."

Garrett shut his eyes and focused on getting his breath back, _breathe, just breathe._ His side spasmed with every gulp of air so he was sure a rib was broken, but it was when he coughed up blood that he really began to worry. He needed to end this soon and brute force was not going to win this for him.

"Stay down, boy. You'll live long-a."

Garrett channeled the only thing he had in spades. His anger. He banished the throbbing in his limbs and the pressing need to pant to catch the breath he'd lost. He sunk into the floor and relaxed his whole body. Playing the 'too weak to fight back' card. Sure, it was fighting dirty, but when it came down to life and death, he was willing to do what it took to survive.

A disappointed hum came from Daud and Garrett could only imagine the look of disapproval he had planted on his mug. "I really thought he'd be an asset. Oh well. Finish him."

 _Oh gods,_ that tone of his was so bored. As though Garrett's death was nothing more than a nuisance. Panic threatened to overwhelm him, push him to his feet, and propel him across the room.

If he did that, though, he was pretty certain he'd still be killed as that was still a surrender of sorts.

He waited while the bigger male hollered his approval and thundered over to where Garrett laid. The back of Garrett's hand began to warm as Garrett channeled a command to it. The boots stopped short at Garrett's head and that's when Garrett let the mark do its thing. He vanished from the floor just as the bigger assassin's heal crushed into the ground where Garrett's head had been.

He reappeared over the Goliath and landed knees first onto his shoulders. With a shout from his opponent, they both toppled to the ground. This time, however, Garrett felt no pain. He rolled to the balls of his feet and leapt for the giant's back, knowing he wouldn't have long before the other male was back in the game. He was able to grapple one arm into half of a submission hold, when a beefy hand fisted the shirt at his back and flipped Garrett off his feet. Had his hands not been slick with sweat and blood he may have been able to keep a hold of the bastard, but no dice. His back didn't hit the ground this time though, he managed to land on one foot and one knee, and somehow retained his balance.

His instincts the driving factor, he twisted hard enough to tear the shirt in half, freeing him from the male's hold as the bigger male made another grab for him.

A new wave of anger hit him as the cold bit into his flesh. He was so done playing around.

He tucked his shoulder forward, tumbling into a crouch beside the guy, and unsheathing a small dagger he had concealed on his person as he rolled. He slashed into the giant's side, the skin giving way easily due to his speed. The cut was a shallow one and far from fatal but it had the desired effect. The male gasped and clenched his side with both hands, the exhilaration making the cut bleed like a faucet. And by extension making the wound appear more serious than it was.

Garrett didn't waste any time, he wrapped around the other male's shoulders and pressed the blade, sharp side out, to the male's neck. "Yield or you die!" He hissed in the male's ear.

His big hand clapped the floor three times in surrender and he hoarsely choked out, "Y-yield…"

Garrett released the assassin and stumbled back on wobbly legs.

 _Thank the gods…_ he didn't think he could fight anymore.

Daud barked a laugh and clapped his hands together a couple of times, "What a show, boy!"

Garrett held himself upright, even though it took every ounce of his energy. Weakness was not accepted here.

" _That's_ what I like to see!"

Distaste washed through Garrett's body, pushing his anger aside and making standing more difficult. _Damn!_ His side suddenly began twitching in earnest and his breathing became more shallow in an attempt to alleviate the pain. His ankle tried to buckle against his will but he shifted his weight to his other side, and his entire body was trembling with exhaustion. All consuming pain had his brain fogging up and his muscles flagging. But he forced himself to remain where he stood.

Perhaps his stubbornness could be counted as his blessing.

"You certainly have some brass!" Daud encouraged, "Bluffing your way to victory like that."

Garrett suppressed his urge to curse, "I would have slit his throat." he lied.

Daud shook his head, a grin setting into the hard lines of his face and a knowing gleam to his eyes. "Boy. I saw your knife. If you'd had any intention of slashing through flesh, the blade would have been flipped." Daud's smile faded and his eyes hardened, "Finish him."

Garrett bristled at the command. He couldn't help himself, he was using too much energy to stay conscience. "What for?" He challenged, the strength in his voice surprising him. "He's down."

"Not the point." Daud calmly strode up to the assassin, planted his boot on the downed man's shoulder and pushed him over to his side. "The parameters of this fight were set in the beginning. This is your job. You will kill him."

Garrett scoffed, "I suggest you hold your breath, 'cause that's not going to happen, but at least passing out will keep you preoccupied."

Before he finished speaking Daud dissolved from sight and the cold steel of a blade settled on his neck. Not cutting, but the pressure was a threat in and of itself. "Do you have any idea what I do to smart-ass kids who don't learn their place?"

Garrett maintained an indifferent expression, "Enlighten me."

Daud let out a noise that may have been a chuckle had he not sounded so irritated. His hand clamped on Garrett's jaw and cranked his head to the side, so he could look the other man in the eyes as he threatened him, no doubt. Daud rested the blade on Garrett's lips, the warning clear.

Garrett cocked a brow at him, "you'll cut out my tongue? How original. While you're at it, how's about you chop off my head and put it on a pike?" He was bluffing. Hard. But Daud didn't need to know that his heart was galloping in his chest and a chill of fear shot up his spine. He didn't want to die. And with his luck lately, he'd be killed because he was fluent in sarcasm and little else.

"You sound so disappointed." Daud said offhandedly.

 _Yeeeeeeah… this is how and why I die._ "I am. I expected you of all people to be more original than that."

Something gleamed behind Daud's eyes, something that had the hair at the back of Garrett's neck raise in alarm, "original?" he waited a moment as if he was entertaining a thought then he smiled slowly and gave a brief nod.

Garrett's challenge had been accepted.

Daud released Garrett and strode back over to the other assassin, who was attempting to stand while still maintaining pressure on the cut. His eyes were wild, like he was scared one wrong move and his guts would come spilling out. Daud came up short beside the male and shook his head at him.

Then, with speed that rivaled lightening, Daud slashed his dagger out to his side, and then sheathed it just as smoothly. The man looked shocked at first then the light died from his eyes as a red slit bloomed over his jugular. The color drained from his face and wept from the wound for a moment before he dropped.

Garrett leapt back with a curse, his body reacting before his conscience mind told it to. His knee buckled and he dropped to the ground with a hiss of pain.

"Your morals didn't save this man. And it won't save anyone else you choose not to kill. But since you insist on defying me it seems I will have to make a lesson of you." Daud turned enough to grin over his shoulder, "Not to worry, it'll be 'original.'"

 **XXX**

Billie sighed at the display beneath her. Daud had wanted rid of that galumphing nuisance for a while now, based on how much he'd bitched about the man's poor performance.

Mostly they assumed it was due to his large stature, as there was very little stealth to be had from the man. However what he had lacked in subtlety he had more than made up for in zeal. He was by far one of Daud's most merciless assassins, killing targets and anyone else who managed to get in his way.

Looked like he finally outlived his usefulness.

Billie had assumed that to be the case when he had forced the new kid to spar with him. Setting the match up as 'to death' meant he either knew the new kid would win or he didn't care if either of them kicked it. As it was, he seemed surprisingly pleased with the outcome. Daud often picked favorites but he was fickle. Typically he used and abused his new ones, at least until they were competent enough to work with someone of lower rank, if not on their own.

Perhaps it was a smart system. Learn from the man in charge and you can never claim _'I didn't know!'_ Since incompetence isn't tolerated Billie guessed it was a kindness, though not everyone might see it that way.

She chuckled as the boy gathered up the remains of his shirt. He balled the taters and tossed them into the fire across the room. He'd already begun to bruise pretty severely both from the brawl and the beating Daud had ordered when the kid was first captured. Though that wasn't what caught her attention. No, as a matter of fact, it was the scars marring his young back that held her gaze. The kid had been tortured. That or he had made some very big mistakes while playing with fire, literally as well as figuratively.

Though, it would take some fairly awkward contortions to get burns from a hot poker multiple times in the side. And whip marks on his back, as well as old stab and slash wounds.

Not _impossible_. Also not likely.

He stiffened and glanced around the room, his shrewd eyes catching her easily. His face hardened and he crossed his arms over his chest as though he were uncomfortable. He hobbled out, almost inaudible whimpers escaping his lips.

Tough kid.

She couldn't help but feel a pang of respect. She'd seen grown men take less punishment and their bellyaching was–more often than not–a melodramatic display to say the least.

Billie dropped from the rafters, doing a quick tumble to soften her landing, and strode across the room. After all, it was best not to keep Daud waiting. Her mission and Thomas' was clear: Watch the kid fight from different angles, report your findings.

Mysteries didn't remain that way for long with Daud.

When she pushed through the creaky office door Daud and Thomas both glanced her way but kept their conversation up. Thomas was high ranking, his dark blue uniform signified as much, and not because he was a suck up. He was merciless when it came to his targets, in fact no matter the cost, when you gave Thomas a job he was like a dog with a bone. He didn't quit until the job was completed to his satisfaction. In addition, he was smarter than he let on as well as an effective teacher. It didn't take a genius to work out why Daud valued his opinion highly.

He was fairly good at finding weaknesses and he spared no detail as he picked the boy apart.

"...He's not self-taught, but whoever his instructor was wasn't a strong person either. He is very good at using his opponent's strength against them. He's quick, both in body and a quick study. You could tell all he wanted to do was run though and… Daud, if he won't kill what good is he?"

"You let me worry about that." Daud's eyes slid over to Billie.

Billie smiled and crossed her arms as she leaned on the wall beside Daud. "He's like a dart. Fast, direct, and always seems to hit the target. But he's just as useless."

"You're implying a dart is only useful if it's poisoned?" Daud challenged.

"Obviously."

Daud nodded, "I disagree. What else."

"You're only interested because he ruffles your feathers. Dispose of him before he does something stupid."

A smiled played at the edges of his lips. "You don't like him."

Billie rolled her eyes and stared at the wall over Daud's shoulder to keep from saying anything else.

"In any case, he won't kill me. Why should I be worried?"

Point. Taken.

Billie growled, "Fine then. He's stubborn as a mule and stronger than Thomas has given him credit for. The kid is still standing."

"After a fight with Brutus? You can't be serious." Thomas protested.

"Saw him limp out of here with my own eyes." she glared over at him, "He hesitates before striking. I think he's holding back, making sure the wound will harm or daze but he never allows the line to be crossed. It's like he's afraid to kill. As a matter of fact, most of his attacks seem to be in an effort to make his opponent back off. He plays the scare card, like what he did with his little dagger there."

Daud settled into a seat as she spoke and laced his fingers together over his lap. He had watched the same fight. He had all this information. What he needed was confirmation of what he'd gleaned from the boy.

"Is that everything?" only now did he bother posing it as a question as opposed to a demand.

"He was abused." Billie tacked on, knowing he wanted more than just information on the fight but also on the scars. "Or tortured. It's difficult to tell from that distance. He had whip marks and burns, deliberate burns. He's malnourished but I can't tell if that is by design or preference or circumstance."

"He is a very good thief, Billie. He could steal the means."

"If he has the coin, then he may not have a choice."

Daud was quiet for a moment, "A kid like that doesn't let anyone tell him what to do. He could, however, have been _conditioned_ to think eating too much is… gluttonous."

Billie snorted at his word choice, "You think the kid is religious?"

"Orphanages are almost exclusively run out of churches. And by extension their practices are forced down their young throats."

Billie shrugged. "What makes you think he's an orphan?"

A dark, knowing look crossed Daud's features, "he is."

"'Thou shalt not kill.'" Thomas said softly, turning both their attention his way, "so he rebelled in some aspects but some things were so deeply ingrained, he can't get past it?"

"Even to save his own life?" Billie argued.

Thomas shrugged, "Perhaps it's in an effort to keep his soul from eternal torment."

She scoffed, "What a load of shit."

"Perhaps. He has had a gentle hand in his life though." Daud stood and pivoted to his fireplace. Where he had destroyed the remnants of the boy's bow.

"His instructor?" Thomas tracked the movement and removed his mask and settled into a seat near him.

"I believe so." he waved by way of dismissal to the two of them, "I have what I wanted."

Thomas obeyed without hesitation in spite of just beginning to get comfortable, a smile lightening his eyes. He shook off his hood and finger combed his hair back, then straightened his clothes on his way out. Only to stop short, shake his head, and slip his mask and hood back on.

Billie rolled her eyes, falling in lust was a foolish thing to do. Hopefully he'd figure that out sooner rather than later.

Billie remained where she was as Daud ghosted over to the fire and stared into the flames. "What if he is a danger to you?"

"He isn't."

Fire ignited in Billie's veins at his stubborn streak. "But what if he _is_." Surely, he wouldn't ignore a threat.

His next words sent a chill down her spine and with it carried a rush of relief. He was still her terrifying leader. It would still be a long time before she needed to step in. To take her rightful place in his shoes.

"Then I'll take care of it."

 **XXX**

Garrett truly tried to hide his limp. To make it look like his injuries accrued at the behest of the behemoth's brutal skills were merely trifling.

When in actuality he was in agony.

His willpower and anger the only things surging him forward on uneasy feet toward the room assigned as his. He didn't know where Daud may have hidden a healer, or a doctor, and he wasn't about to find out. And while he'd love to say that was due to pride, he'd be lying. As it stood he was unsure he'd actually make it to his bed with all the different aches vying for his attention. That coupled with the fact that his vision was _still_ red, made his task that much more arduous.

He stumbled a few times as his ankle gave out under his weight. He was unsurpised when no one helped him out or even looked up in his direction. Assassins were expendable. And if you weren't cut from the fold and sewn in just right, you were just as disposable as a dirty cloth. He was on his own as far as everyone here was concerned and they rose in rank due to merit, not due to compassion. Less competition and all that.

Besides, what person learns if they never fail?

Garrett gasped and froze where he was as his ankle tensed again. He was in trouble. His ribs were broken, his hip had popped from its socket and been sloppily forced back in place during the fight. His head had been cracked a couple of times, and he strongly suspected he had sprained his ankle. The fact that he was on it at all was a miracle in and of itself.

He clenched his jaw and forced himself forward in spite of the fact that he knew he wasn't ready. He regretted it as his knees hit the ground, jostling his body. He fought the grunt of pain and stayed put this time, his eyes clamping shut and his muscles shaking from the effort.

He should have killed the giant like Daud wanted. He should have ended the fight at that very first opening. A misstep on the other assassin's part had shown Garrett his weakness. A bum hip and very little training. Garrett could have slit the other male's throat, or broken his neck a number of times. But he didn't. And he'd been beaten for his decision.

Sure, he was the one still breathing. But the giant was really the one who won in the long run.

He'd be licking his wounds for weeks.

"You assholes!" a soft voice barked. "Help him to his room right this instant or Daud shall have your hides!"

A few mutters and irritated noises greeted her challenge but the sound of boots followed. A rough hand clamped on Garrett's upper arms and swiftly lifted him to his feet. He moaned as his body protested to the mistreatment. They couldn't have given him a few minutes?

"You are hurting him!" the soft-voiced girl protested.

"So what?"

The woman was wasting her breath, trouble was Garrett couldn't stay conscience long enough to enlighten her. Next thing he knew a cold, damp cloth was being run over any laceration he'd had the misfortune of having. He hissed at the one over his broken ribs and the prodding cloth stopped abruptly.

"I am sorry, but they are deep. And filthy. You shall get sick if I do not clean them."

He grunted and forced his eyes to crack at the very least. He wanted to see this torturer.

His sarcastic comment dried up in his throat as his vision cleared enough to see her face. The left side was twisted into a permanent expression of torment, a burn that seemed to cover most of her face, neck, and arm. The skin looking like it hadn't set on her bones correctly and the affected eye was milky as though it no longer functioned. Her eyes were kind, however. This wasn't a woman who enjoyed pain or suffering for anyone. And it was all too apparent her beauty had been robbed of her.

Her soft, knowing smile didn't reach her eyes as her fingers touched her withered cheek. "I am more than capable of treating your injuries. Of truth, I no longer feel any of this. It still shocks most."

He shook his head and grimaced as a warning ache shot between his temples. "I-I didn't mean to…"

"Notice?" she asked pointedly. "It is hardly a small blemish. It is all right, young thief. I have long since become accustomed to being regarded as such."

He licked at his dry lips, "I shouldn't have… stared… I'm sorry."

"Do not be. For I am not." this time the grin she flashed was genuine, "I would gladly undergo it again. As it was my foothold into this life."

Garrett scoffed and then groaned as his ribs protested.

"Well. That is what you get for being rude."

"Dear gods... I'm sorry…."

She chuckled quietly and gingerly stretched his arm out so that it was hanging off the bed. She didn't prod his side, and he was thankful for that, but she did stare at the bruise for a long time. "Waiting for it to change there, Doc?"

Her eyes narrowed as she brushed her fingertips over the very fringes of the bruise. "Yes. Now shut it."

He didn't want to tick off the only person actually helping him so he followed her directions. Her hand drifted to the bruise creeping up his side from his hip, her brow furrowing deeply. She moved down to the foot of his bed and she slowly removed his right boot. When she went for his left he stopped her.

"Please… not yet. It-" he gasped but forced the words out, "-It feels sprained."

Her hands hovering over the boot dropped abruptly and she nodded. She continued up the left side of the bed, checking his injuries in that meticulous way of hers. When she seemed satisfied with her assessment she walked over to the door and poked her head out. "May I please get some assistance? I shall need a second pair of hands."

She left the door open a crack and came back over to his bedside. "This will hurt. Just know it needs to be done." She soothed his hair from his forehead as she spoke in an incredibly calm demeanor. Similar to the way one would calm a frightened animal or child. "I promise you I will attempt to make this as painless for you as I possibly can."

Garrett swallowed hard, "way to make a guy feel at ease there, Doc."

"I could have just hurt you and left it at that." She said pointedly as an assassin entered the room. "Thank you, Thomas. Your help is greatly appreciated."

Though how she could tell who he was with that mask on puzzled Garrett. To him, they all looked the same when fully armed, which seemed to be a constant state around here. Their only distinguishing factor the colors of their uniforms, even those were limited.

He shrugged, "Where do you want me?"

"Here, please. I shall need you to hold him down whilst I remove his boot. If his ankle is truly sprained it is also swollen. The less thrashing he does, the better."

Garrett didn't like that plan but it wasn't as though he could argue. The ankle was injured so the boot needed to be removed. Simple as that. His stomach wasn't getting on board with the plan however, as it clenched up like he was about to lose his breakfast.

Thomas closed in near the headboard and Garrett braced himself for more rough treatment. His eyes squeezed shut and his hands balled in the sheets.

Except then there was nothing. No grabbing. No holding him down. No… nothing.

"Young thief. I have promised you I would not harm you unnecessarily. My promise extends to Mr. Thomas as well. Under my care you are safe."

Garrett cracked a lid at her, then glanced up at Thomas who was relaxing against the wall by his headboard. "Why?" He found himself asking.

She smiled slowly, her twisted lip warping the wrong way, her other side looking perfectly genuine. "My husband is the one who burned me."

"I-what?"

"My husband. He took a pot of boiling water and threw it at me. Immediately after promising me he would never harm me again." Her eyes grew tired, like she'd suddenly aged by about a decade. "So I take my word very seriously. I only promise if I fully intend on going through with it. So you see, you are in good hands."

"The best." Thomas tacked on, pinning his gaze on her.

She fluttered her hand in the air as though shooing away the compliment. "Do you take me at my word, young thief?"

Garrett swallowed again and, not knowing what else he could possibly say, simply nodded at her.

She waved at Thomas who gripped his right shoulder and left arm. He carefully avoided the gash on his left shoulder and his grip was strong, not brutal.

"Then let us begin. And thief?"

He didn't have it in him to respond.

"I will ask for your forgiveness before this night is over."

He chuckled harshly, nothing about this was funny, but he found he couldn't stop himself. "That bad, Doc?"

"Yes, I am afraid it is."

* * *

 ** _I Will Not Bow_** \- Breaking Benjamin.


	10. Ch9: The Mountain

**Thunder** _rattled the empty picture frames on the walls as lightning flashed in the windows, illuminating the room like the sun for a breath. A faint dripping sounded from somewhere deeper in the apartment. In fact, it was the only noise other than the harsh, frightened sounds of the eight year old boy hiding under the bed._

 _The boy shivered so hard his teeth chattered under the three scratchy blankets he had rummaged from the thief's house. His bones hurt and his eyes were peeled wide at the onslaught outside._

 _The City was located near the ocean which was great if you were a merchant, as trade is always hustling on the water. The downside? The ocean brought with it storms, heavy and unrelenting and almost daily._

 _Another slash of lightning and explosion of thunder crackled through the air, causing the boy to burrow into his makeshift hiding place. A whimper escaped his lips and he curled into a tight ball, clapping his hands over his ears and screwing his eyes shut. His breath was hot on his panicked skin and he was sure his heart was attempting to make a break from his chest at any moment._

 _He had no idea how long he stayed that way, huddled into his knees, praying to gods he didn't believe existed for the storm to pass._

 _One of his blankets slid off his body slowly but the boy was too preoccupied to notice or care. When the second one was yanked away in a hard rush, the boy fisted the last one closer to him._

 _"Kid? You alive under there?"_

 _His eyes flew open and his heart stopped in his chest. "Senior!" he scrambled out from under the bed frame and damn near tackled the man. Winding his arms around the man's stomach and holding on for dear life._

 _"Oof… Kid, watch the gut."_

 _"Senior, don't ever leave me!' he sobbed as he buried his young face in Senior's abdomen._

 _Gentle hands soothed the boy's black hair back, "Shhh… it's okay kid. I'm here. You're safe. I promise."_

 _"Y-you le-ft me!"_

 _The man's voice was low and sincere as his fingers drifted through the boy's downy hair. "Hey, hey. It's all right now. From now on I won't leave you anymore."_

 _"Promise!" the boy demanded, his heart thundering in his ears._

 _The man let out a small chuckle and gathered the boy up in his arms. "I promise. But you have to promise to keep up. Can you do that for me?" he set the boy on the bed and crouched in front of the boy's bony knees. "Do you think you can learn to do what I do?"_

 _The kid bobbed his head and wiped his red nose on his sleeve, "uh-huh… I'll work really hard. I'll be very quiet. Please, please don't leave me again." he fisted the man's sleeves as fat tears trailed down his round cheeks and soaked his shirt collar._

 _Senior smiled, but his eyes were sad. "Okay kid." he peeled the boy's tiny hands from his arms and joined him on the bed while the storm growled outside. The boy nuzzled into the man's chest as a blanket was draped around them. With time, the boy's sobs dissolved to hiccups, his hiccups to shudders and in that time Senior soothed his hair and back silently._

 _"Tomorrow." he finally said in the dark. "I'll start training you tomorrow, son."_

 _The boy's shoulders stiffened and he lifted his bloodshot eyes to the man, "Son?" he croaked._

 _The man smiled and ran a hand over the boy's damp cheek, "Is that okay?"_

 _He'd never expected this. Never having anyone to care for him, or about him, he'd given up thinking anyone would ever want him. But he had always wanted this. He'd always wanted a father. He'd always wanted to be someone's son. Someone who mattered to somebody else._

 _Being sheltered in the man's arms he resolved that he didn't want to be just anyone's son. He wanted to be this man's son._

 _For all he cared, the rest of the world could burn._

 _The boy couldn't speak past the lump forming in his throat so he nodded instead._

 _The man kissed the top of the boy's head and pulled him closer to his chest, "all right. From now on then, you're my son. I promise I'll protect you. You're safe with me. Always."_

 _The boy clenched the front of the man's tunic as his tears returned out of relief this time, as he had completely forgotten about the storm._

 _"Sleep well… son."_

Garrett's eyes fluttered open as the warmth of Senior's arms faded, his free hand gripping blindly at the man that had recently, only lived on in his dreams. His vision was on its way back to normal, the colors, that is. But tears were soaking the pillow underneath him and the rest of his vision was taking its sweet time adjusting.

His chest ached and, no, it had nothing to do with the broken ribs, or slashes, or bruises marring his flesh. No, the ache was one of barely suppressed longing for a parent he had buried long ago. Of the years that truly had been robbed of them. And of the heirloom that was reduced to ashes now.

He scrubbed his face with his free hand, the other one having been tied to the opposite shoulder with gauze, and rested his forearm over his eyes when the tears refused to stop. Shame tore through him as he heard the door open and shut quietly.

"Are you in pain?"

 _Hell yes,_ "'S'not so bad." His voice cracked and he kicked himself mentally for being so weak. He hated people seeing him this way. He was too raw to put up any real pretense.

"So…" he croaked and then cleared his throat, "will I live, Doc?" He kept his arm over his face, not trusting his eyes to dry up.

She made a quiet, amused hum in the back of her throat and he flinched when her fingers ran through his blood matted hair. "You will recover. Though, whether or not you shall survive, that is up to Daud."

Garrett chuckled bitterly. "A lot of things are up to Daud."

"He is the leader here, after all." she pointed out, her footfalls retreating over to the table and glasses began clacking together.

"Sure. Gods are silent, sheep need to follow someone with a firm voice."

She knocked something over on the table, but it sounded like she quickly righted it. "The implication being that he is a god?"

"You people certainly seem to think so."

She was quiet for a long moment, as if she was considering what he said. A rumble of thunder had his ears piquing, no wonder he had dreamed of that night… and of Senior. Another pang of sadness coursed through his veins. By the gods… he missed Senior. More than he felt he should at this point in his life.

"Perhaps you are right." Doc admitted at last. "Our lives are in his hands. Though perhaps 'God' is too grandeur of a title." her steps sounded over to the side of his bed.

"I would say… 'Harold' might fit him better."

"And just which God is he speaking for then?"

Her hand gently tapped his forearm and he stiffened, not ready to drop the arm. "I must check your eyes."

 _Please gods, no…_ "...They hurt..."

"I would imagine so. There was so much blood, though I could not tell if you were bleeding from your eye or if it was simply spillover from the gash on your forehead. Now that the wound on your head has been taken care of, I should like to make sure your eye is all right."

He hesitated, if that was the case, the tears could be explained away. He slowly dragged his arm down and fluttered his eyes open, wincing at the light from the exposed bulb in the corner of the room. Her scarred face was blurry but the tender expression still shined through.

"I am sorry but I need the light to examine you."

"No worries." he grunted as he pushed himself up on the headboard a little.

Her hand ghosted over his cheek and she leaned in to better see the damage. To distract himself from having someone in his face he choked, "you never answered me."

"About what?" she asked after nodding and straightening.

"What god do you imagine Daud worships?"

She scoffed. "Well that really is a different question, is it not, young thief?" She glided over to the table and pulled a syringe out and began cleaning it.

"Is it really?"

She speared a vial filled with blue liquid and pulled the plunger to fill the syringe. "Blue first." she breathed to herself, while gathering a strip of leather and a silver bowl filled with what looked like a rag submerged in water.

Garrett's stomach did a flip.

"What is that?" he asked, pushing himself back into the headboard as she padded back over holding up the concoction.

She dropped her arm with the syringe like that was supposed to make him feel better about it. "Daud said he wants you to have this, along with the red. He stole them, if you must know."

"Uh-huh, and what is it?"

She glanced down at the blue potion. "This one is Piero's Spiritual Remedy, and the red is Sokolov's Elixir."

That jacked his heart rate up higher. "The hell do I need a spiritual remedy for? Tell Daud to kiss my ass. I'm not taking some bullshit cure-all from some quack physician."

She rolled her eyes and dropped, unceremoniously on the corner of the bed. "By the Outsider's eyes, you can be exhausting, you know that?"

"It's my mission in life." he narrowed his eyes at her and she scoffed.

"Why do you insist on acting as though you have a choice?"

Garrett blinked, all anger evaporating from him. She was right. He didn't really have a choice, did he? Daud had made that perfectly clear. Daud says 'jump' he doesn't want to hear 'how high?'

He wants Garrett to jump.

Garrett settled back into the bed as the revelation dawned on him. Fighting this head-on would not get him out of the situation at hand. He needed to outsmart the man to win his freedom, but that would take patience... Planning. He'd need to survive to be able to get free. And to survive, he'd need to conform.

And–he couldn't fight his grimace–obey.

He sighed heavily and held out his free arm to her. It took all the effort in the world to unfold his arm and expose that vein to her, but he did it. Even though his arm shook... It was offered to her.

She nodded and quickly set the bowl on the dingy bedside table. She then wrapped the strip of leather, which he then realized was a belt, around his upper arm. He broke into a cold sweat as the leather tightened on his arm, thankfully she didn't seem to notice. He swore he could see his vein throbbing though he knew for a fact it was all in his head. She used the rag to clean his arm of any remaining dust he'd accrued in that fight.

He knew she could see the fine tremors racing up and down his arm, how could she not? But if she did, she ignored them completely.

She lifted the syringe needle in the air and pushed the plunger the barest bit, until a small stream of the blue fluid leapt free. She then cradled his elbow and placed the needle head on skin over the bright blue vein. "This should not hurt overmuch. And I shall be as quick as the serum allows."

A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. "Yeah sure… fine."

She was indeed fast. And efficient. It felt like an eternity that that needle was pumping that god-awful shit into his arm but he knew better. And when his breath hitched, the Doc laced her fingers into his. She didn't acknowledge the fact that she did it. Didn't bite or goad him, she just offered a small, secret comfort and allowed him his pride.

The second injection hurt worse than the first but not by much, though he was using every fiber of his being not to fight her. His fingernails bit into the back of her hand, and her skin went white with the force of his grip but he couldn't unlatch his fingers even though he knew he'd had to be hurting her. She took it in stride, not even her expression changed.

"There we are." she said after a moment, extracting the needle. "You may want to lay back, most say they get a head rush the first time they try one of these, let alone both of them. They can be potent and I would prefer not to take chances if I can help it."

"Yeah…" he nodded as he sunk into the bed and she wrapped his injection sites up. She settled the crocheted blanket over his still bare chest and it was then the room started to float around his ears.

He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, feeling like he was on that damn boat again. "Damn me…."

She snorted and he felt the bed-springs unfurl as she stood. "Well, I did warn you."

"...no you didn't…" he protested as he curled on his side. "You said 'head rush', this is some sick punishment Daud handed out."

She sighed and shook her head. "You are a wonder, young thief," she mused in that proper way of hers.

"Garrett, Doc. My name is Garrett." He mumbled while flopping on his back, resting his hand over his eyes, and dropping a leg off the bed to try to convince his brain that the waves hitting the body of the ship were all in his head.

"All right then, Garrett. Is there anything I can get you? Perhaps something to help you sleep?"

He groaned and shook his head slightly, "You were born a noble... Weren't you... Doc?"

She was quiet for so long he had to remove his hand and crack a lid to see if she was still there. She was staring at the wall, her scar completely hidden due to the angle she stood. Looking every bit the proper noblewoman he'd assumed her to be. "Am I so transparent, young thief?"

He'd struck a nerve. Unburied something ugly and was unsurprised he'd hurt her with his question. He'd always read people pretty well and he tended to ask questions to validate himself. But more often than not, he'd pick at a wound he didn't know was there. And that was why he fared better on his own. People didn't like a person who never knew when it was inappropriate to pry.

He made a noise that was a 'no' and covered his eyes again, "You talk like 'um, is all. And you're graceful. Those are two things lower class folks don't really care about."

"Do you spend much time in the company of nobility?" she asked quietly.

"Only when I am robbing them. But you pick up things, after a while of watching."

She hummed, "I was the daughter of a duke." she confirmed finally. "And he had me married off in an effort to inflate the family's meager fortune. My father was a betting man, so he had squandered most of our coin on gambling. When my husband learned of this, of course, my father's greed was taken out upon my flesh. Until the night Thomas was assigned to assassinate my husband in accordance with someone's power play. He once told me he was assigned to simply poison my husband, however, when my husband burned me… I remember waking up on the floor, in a great deal of pain and laying in no small amount of blood.

"My husband was on the ground beside me, staring at me with no life left in his eyes and his throat opened from one end of his jaw to the other…." she was quiet again for a long moment. She drew in a shaky breath and laughed bitterly.

"I was elated. My husband who hurt me over and over was finally powerless. And though I was… disfigured… I had outlived him. I do not remember Thomas bringing me here but I do remember Daud having me treated and when I was strong enough, he gave me leave to do whatever I wished here. I wanted to be of use so I learned from the old doctor here as much as I could. When he passed away, Daud fetched me books and scrolls and herbs. After every mission, he ensured I had what I needed to take care of him and his men.

"So you see, young thief, to my biased eyes, he is not a cruel or vicious man." The bed on his right side dipped slightly as she settled her weight on it. "But rather my savior and friend. A man who opened his home for me when he had little use for a spoiled, noble child."

Garrett kept his eyes shut but lifted his hand from his eyes and patted her shoulder twice, in reassurance that he'd been listening. Since he didn't know what to say to give any real comfort he stayed silent.

"Do you wish to sleep?" she asked in the tense quiet.

"I'm sorry." he offered.

The bed lifted and another blanket was rested over his prone body. "As I have indicated before, I am not. Do not pity me, Garrett. A young, useless, and depressed girl died that day. She was replaced as someone who matters. Sleep well."

As the door clicked shut he shook his head and let out a small sigh. He was tired, he thought as his head plunged under the waters of his mind.

* * *

 ** _The Mountain_** \- Three Days Grace.


	11. Ch10: Expensive Mistakes

_**His**_ dreams took no real form but he felt tense and panicked until his lids cracked in the quiet morning. His chest tight and his head swimming, he sat up with a groan. His body was curiously… unargumentative. His ribs didn't hurt nor did his ankle or his hip. He pushed the blanket down only to gawk at the sealed gashes on his flesh.

He unlaced the gauze from around his wrist and shoulders and twisted his arm first to one side then the other. His shoulder didn't protest in the slightest. He kicked his legs out to the side of the bed and rested both feet on the floor. He braced himself for one hell of a lick of pain in that sprained ankle but when he put his weight on it… it held steady.

What the hell had been in that concoction?

Garrett caught sight of a new set of clothes bundled on a chair across the room. Well they were old clothes but they were new to him. He decided if he could just make it over to the clothes he would be fine for the rest of the day. His newfound health would have not been a temporary fix after all.

He was slow as he crossed the room, not trusting a single step but soon he had clean clothes on his back and boots on his feet. Though they were the same obscenely loud ones he had been given before.

He glanced at the door and then to the closed window in the room. Perhaps escape was beyond his grasp at this time. But if Daud's men were sleeping, he might just have enough time to send a message to Basso that he was still breathing.

He resolved to at least try as he may never get a chance alone again.

He padded as quietly as the boots allowed over to the window and pried it open. There was a tiny balcony and a walkway just a boost up. He stepped onto the ledge and climbed up to the walkway.

It was much later in the day than he had originally assumed. The sun hung low in the sky and to the west, so the night was approaching fast. Didn't that just make it his lucky day? Darkness was his best asset after all. Still, he needed to ensure he could make it to a black market shop, find Basso's contact, Edmond, and have a message out before anyone knew he was gone.

He darted across the makeshift walkway and followed the route he'd used upon coming there as quickly as he dared. He was unsure if Daud posted guards during the day, though what man in his right mind wouldn't? And if he did, where they could be posted. And now that Garrett was aware that his men could manipulate the arcane he was being extra cautious.

He made it back to the city proper just as the sun was cresting over the water. His breathing hadn't changed and he felt ten times better than he'd felt in a long time. The exertion not plaguing him but rather surging him forward. He would have to try to replicate that potion. It was a hell of a cure-all. He almost felt bad for bashing it.

He headed for the more rundown areas of the city. If there was a black market shop it wasn't going to be smack dab in the middle of Guard Patrol Alley or any other area the fine folks frequent. It would be in the part of town you hesitated to go to at night. Unless of course it was absolutely necessary. Like if you were dying for example, and even then, could it really not wait until morning?

It was easy to find from above and when he heard the gunshots and barking of the gangs below he knew he was in the right spot. He slipped into one of the old buildings through a window and slinked down to the lower levels making sure to mostly keep out of sight. He stumbled out of the building and into a rundown street, not knowing who was dangerous and who was a harmless bystander Garrett resolved to play it safe and avoid everyone.

It only took a little while to spot the shop marker, and he sighed in relief when he did. He needed some luck... yesterday would have been best but he'd settle for a little today.

He slipped into the vestibule where a wall and a small window cut the shopkeep off from their less-than-refined clients. When he caught sight of a woman he nearly growled. The universe was _not_ on his side today. He took a few breaths to compose himself and then stepped into her line of vision. Her eyes widened slightly but to her credit she didn't jump or gasp, which considering her clientele was a good practice.

You had to be tough to stick it out in this business.

"What can I _do._.. for you?" her eyes cast over his body with just a little too much interest.

 _Ugh_ … He suppressed the urge to slink back, the attention making him uncomfortable. It wasn't that she was unattractive, he simply didn't like… anyone really. Male, female, undead: all to be avoided at all costs. He didn't like to be seen with his clothing on, he couldn't even fathom being naked in front of other people.

"I need… Edmund. You know him?"

"Edmund?" she spat, her face suddenly harshening. "That joker ain't got nothing I don't got."

 _Yes, he does._ "I'm an old… friend."

She cocked her eyebrow at him and it was all he could do to _not_ knock her lights out.

"Fine. I need him because my dad told me to find him if I'm in trouble. Lady. I'm in a lot of trouble." He was hoping because she was female she'd buy into the 'poor little guy' act. It helped that he was sticking close to the truth, Senior had taught him how to lie and Basso had told him what tells he needed to suppress. Though Basso was more a funny old uncle than a father.

When she unfolded her arms and sighed, he knew he had her. "Okay kiddo. I get ya. Edmund's shop is... Do you know where the distillery district is?"

He sighed and shook his head, wilting his shoulders and making himself appear smaller.

"It's okay kid. Here," she reached under the counter and rummaged for a minute before holding a finger up at him and retreating into the back. She emerged after a brief minute and dropped a map on the counter. She spayed it out and took out a lovely gold tipped, gilded pen from her pocket.

Which Garrett stared at for just a little too long, his fingers tingling in anticipation.

He shook his head and berated himself, _message first._ Priorities. He needed to keep his priorities rooted in place. Afterward he could steal to his heart's content.

"We're here." she said pointedly as she circled a small building on the map. "Cut through this alleyway-" she looked up at him suddenly, "How opposed are you to climbing into people's windows?"

"Not opposed at all."

She shrugged, "Good, there's a little old guy who lives on the ground floor of this building, you go through his place you'll avoid the wall of light here-"

"Wall of light?"

She snorted, "Don't touch those, they'll burn you to a crisp. There won't even be a body left to dispose of."

Yeah. One. Hundred. Percent. Done. With. Dunwall.

"Like I said, old guy is like five years older than god, sleeps all the time, and likes him some gin so should be a snap. Hang a right and follow the street till it forks, go left and follow that road till you see Granny Rag's place on the corner. You can't miss it, it's the most rundown building on the block. One more left and your in another alley, Edmund's place is there."

She capped the pen and let it drop on the counter, making Garrett cringe. She didn't catch the motion, just blew on the ink to dry it a bit and handed him the map. "Here ya go. Don't go getting lost. Not everyone in this city is as… accommodating as I am."

He took what was offered, the map that is, not the subtle offer to share a bed for the night. "Thanks." he said quietly, "I appreciate your help."

"Anytime sweetie." Her eyes did that roaming thing again, "Any. Time."

Never again. He thought as he raced out of there. He was over in the alley she mentioned before the weight in his palm registered. He shut his eyes and lifted his hand into his field of vision. Then peeked at it.

The gilded pen.

Good to know he could keep his priorities straight.

He cursed as he tucked the pen away. He briefly contemplated stopping by his room that he had stashed the small amount of loot he'd stolen on that cursed bracelet job. He could probably fence it and… do what with it? Give the gold to Daud? Not damn likely.

He decided to let his stash lie for now. Better to have it hidden than in Daud's hands. He would _not_ give up his hard earned gold unless he had no other choice.

He followed the path the shopkeep had mentioned. Glancing out of the alleyway and toward the "Wall of Light" the shopkeep had mentioned. Two prongs were adhered to the building sides, and the prongs glowed with a harsh white light. There was a faint shimmer flowing between the two prongs. So this was a wall of light. He wondered briefly how it worked but he was on a clock so he made a mental note to recall the image at a later time to see if he could figure it out.

Ideally, he'd love to take it apart to see how it works but his curiosity would simply have to wait. Until he was dispatched to do a job for Daud.

He sunk back into the alley and headed back toward the window he had only glanced at before.

When he came up to a window on the bottom floor of the old man's building, he splayed his hands against the pane and pushed up slowly. The window screeched a little making Garrett cringe and glance around the inside of the room. Nothing stirred so he continued to force it up until there was enough of a crack to fit his fingers through. Once the window was open he was inside and had it shut as quietly as the thing allowed.

He then dipped into a crouch and shut his eyes and forced his ears to focus on the sounds around him. Someone upstairs was pacing, the creek of the floorboards above him told him that. Heat was being tunneled through the piping running throughout the house. The old man was in a room not very far off from Garrett, snoring loudly. Garrett kept still as possible and picked apart every noise he could before he allowed his eyes to open.

His night vision had considerably heightened in the time he had waited, which was good. The wall of light had him seeing spots for a second there. Obviously things were much different in this city.

He crept over the shabby rug, studying the room as he went. The old man must have been nobility at one point, but it was safe to assume his riches had long ago been depleted. Judging from the amount of missing knickknacks, bare curio cabinets that used to house precious things, and the curious lack of upkeep. There were rooms that were boarded off and parts of the ceiling that were caving in slowly. The roof bowing in places where water no doubt collected. One more good storm this guy may be out of a home.

Finding his way out of the place was simple enough, most of the unnecessary rooms were closed off and it was easy to find the window to the other alleyway, past the wall. Mostly because the window glowed like a bonfire was outside due to that contraption.

This window opened smoothly and luckily the old man was none the wiser. And why should he be? So long as no one crept in and killed him, it wasn't as though he had much left to lose. Or maybe he was hoping for the knife to put him out of his misery?

People were funny like that. Some of them believed in the Gods so strongly that they didn't risk taking their own lives no matter how bad it got. On the other hand they were fine with putting themselves in dangerous situations.

He'd learned enough in the orphanage that the beyond could be a terrible place if you were evil. And it was puzzling to him as a child that taking one's own life was considered one of the most evil acts that a person can commit. It didn't make a lot of sense but then if someone had explained it to him, he doubted he would have listened. He'd been a stubborn child.

Still was.

He kept himself moving as quick as he could. The patrolling guards now sparse at best. The rundown building on the right was easy enough to find, the shuffling woman outside he assumed was Granny Rags was muttering to herself and let out a cackle as he passed. "Ooh watch the rooftops, clever boy. His eyes are on yooooou…"

He tried not to shiver as her blind eyes zeroed in on him and a toothless smile stretched across her withered cheeks. "He finds you cur-io-us!" she sang.

He kept his back away from her as he padded down the road. Her eyes continued to follow him.

"It's not me you need to fear, clever boy. And _He_ is not who you think."

Garrett glanced at the rooftops above him but saw nothing and she let out another howling cackle.

 _Great._ He thought. _I fell for a crazy lady's ramblings._

He shook his head and ducked into the alley, hoping he didn't see that blind stare in his nightmares. Crazy old bat…. Still he couldn't help but keep an eye on the rooftops as he passed, something didn't feel right. It felt as though he was being watched.

Relief flooded through him when he noticed the graffitied hands on the side of a building, with a brazen black arrow pointing to a basement entrance. He marked where the moon was in the sky and cursed, it was well into the night. At least two hours had passed and it was hard to imagine no one had come to check in on him yet. He just had to keep moving forward and hope that this worked out to his benefit.

He trotted down the brick stairs and was greeted by another vestibule with a similar window–barrier set up as the first. An older man with spectacles sliding down his nose as he took notes in a leather bound book was settled behind the window.

"Edmund?" Garrett ventured.

The spectacles flashed in the candle light as he lifted his chin, the magnified glass making his eyes appear much larger. "Hum? Oh, yes, yes boy come in. Looking for something in particular? Or can I tempt you with a Spring Razor? Hum? Guaranteed to get the Guard off your back."

"What? No, are you Edmund?"

The man nodded, "Well I ain't his mama, whatcha need?"

Garrett checked to make sure no one else was coming before closing the door behind him and moving over to the man. "Do you know Basso?"

"That old gaffer? Sure do. What business do you have with him, boy?" Edmund's spectacles shimmied down his nose as he nodded and he pushed them back up with a nearly toothless grin.

"He's my fence. I need to get a message to him."

"Ah! Why you must be the infamous Garrett he went on about in his last letter! If you're as good as he claimed, could you prove it for me?"

Garrett suppressed a groan, "I really don't have a lot of tim-"

"Shouldn't take a master like you too much time, eh? Come on now, been a while since anyone has been able to prove their skills 'round here."

Garrett glanced at the door again. "What is it you want?" he asked, thinly veiled irritation in his voice.

"Rob me."

Garrett could only blink at the man. "Beg pardon?"

"See if you can rob my shop without me knowing it. Come on, it'll be fun."

"Fun?"

He nodded vigorously and held up a gold pocket watch. "My pap gave this to me. Got this message inscribed on the inside, so you can't trip me up." he tapped his temple, and tucked it into his waist coat. "If you can sneak this out of my pocket, I'll give you whatever you want from my shop."

"Including a bird to send a message to Basso?"

His head bobbed and he clapped his hands together, "Well go on. Get to it."

XXX

Garrett would never be able to figure out in a million years why Basso insisted on having contacts with crazy people. Edmund certainly fit the bill. When Garrett had "proven himself" the old geezer cackled like a lunatic and stuffed a piece of parchment into one of Garrett's pockets, propped a pen on Garrett's ear and shoved the bird into his hands.

"Careful with Lord Plucky. He bites." he warned.

And man did he ever.

Garrett glared at the little jerk as he set down the tin pen on the parapet and blew on the ink in the crumpled up letter. He then folded it up as best he could. He didn't want to get near the damn bird and his razor beak again–four of his fingers were already smarting. It cocked its head at him and chirped twice, fluffing its feathered chest to look bigger.

Challenging him.

Daring him to come near again and get bit. "Nice birdy…" he said in the most charming voice he could muster. "I'm just going to put a little letter in your pouch."

He held one hand out to distract it and with the other he attempted to tuck the letter up in its compartment without getting bit. No such luck. The bird knew what he was doing. True to its name the little shit plucked at Garrett's fingers.

"Yeah, okay. Not playing anymore." he snatched the bird up and shoved the letter in the pouch, as it squawked. He buttoned it in and ground down on his molars as his fingers bled with the bird's ire.

"Hey, I was going to be nice, you little bastard, but you decided to be ornery. Now go find Basso. Bite _him_ , you little shit." he tossed the bird in the air and he naturally fluttered his wings and glided out toward the river.

He sighed and climbed onto the ledge of the rooftop and sat for a moment.

He would have to get back to Daud soon. Before he was discovered missing. He just needed to breathe for a moment after all that craziness. This city was cursed. He didn't want to spend a year here. Something had to be in the water… something that poisons the mind.

He rubbed at his eyes and revelled in the first moment of relief he'd had in days.

It didn't last.

A gunshot rang out into the night and the squawk of a bird had Garrett scanning the sky for Lord Plucky. _Fwap!_ Sounded in the distance and Garrett stiffened as a cold blade rested on his shoulder.

"I thought we agreed on a year. Wasn't that right?"

 _Oh no…_ "Daud."

"I just know you weren't defying me by sending a message out to someone who may have some interest in saving you." Daud's voice sent a tremor of irritation through Garrett.

He shook his head as his lips drew into a tight line. "No one is coming to save me. Someone needed to know that I was––" the blade quickly bounced up to his jawline.

"––Choose your next words carefully."

"...Alive." Garrett finished. "I will remain that way by the end of the night, won't I?"

Daud was quiet for a long while, the blade a tangible and ever present threat. "I'm uncertain. You seem to be more trouble than you are worth."

"I wasn't running away."

Daud scoffed. "Liar."

"I wasn't." Garrett growled, and remembered the pen he'd stolen earlier in the night. "I'm worth whatever problems I bring you. This I can promise."

"Is that so?"

Garrett raised both of his hands to show he was unarmed and freed the pen from its hiding spot, he offered it over his shoulder to Daud. "For your trouble."

The pen was snatched away and Garrett felt like he had to wait for an eternity before the blade was lifted from his neck. He relaxed and turned to face Daud who was examining the pen while flicking his eyes back up to Garrett. "This is worth a considerable amount of coin."

"Did you expect anything less?"

"Not really. That last time you stole from me you managed to take the items that held the most value. You're good at that." Daud's expression remained harsh but it was clear an idea flashed in his mind because he smiled darkly at Garrett.

"Where did you learn it?"

"Measuring value?"

Daud nodded and Garrett shrugged not wanting to give much away, "practice."

"Everything is a battle with you, isn't it?" Daud seemed to muse to himself. "But I suppose it's in your nature to be difficult. Now onto the matter of your punishment."

Garrett glanced down at his hands and swallowed hard as Daud chuckled. "I'm not so short sighted boy. I won't do _that_ until I'm done with you."

' _Until I'm done with you._ ' Not an if. But a when.

The blade pointed in the direction Daud wanted Garrett to go, "Move it." he ordered. Garrett begrudgingly followed the instruction, not wanting to add to whatever punishment Daud had in mind for him.

As he passed the felled bird his hope began to diminish. He'd now lost all forms of contact with Basso, who was the only one who actually gave a damn about whether or not he made it out of this mess alive. And honestly was the only person who might have come looking for him.

XXX

"Get in."

Garrett swallowed at the sight if the pit he'd spent his first night under Daud's thumb in. There wasn't really a floor, simply a pile of bricks in the bottom of the pit and bars on the only exit. He remembered it being so damn cold and damp he'd wanted to die.

But if Daud knew how much he hated it, it would become the norm.

Garrett was sure of it.

He lowered himself into the pit and quickly drew his arms around himself, he had a long night ahead of him. He backed up toward the far wall and Daud appeared at the bottom of the pit with him. He held something out to Garrett, which he eyed with suspicion. "You'll want to take this." Daud insisted as he shook the hand.

It was a pair of thin rags, Garrett realized.

"If you're smart, you'll wrap up those hands of yours." Daud's amusement oozed out of the man's skin, "And as a bonus I've decided to add six months to your sentence."

" _WHAT?_ " Garrett snapped between clenched teeth.

"Did you think I was simply going to lock you up for your insubordination? No boy. You're going to feel the sting of your actions." Daud closed in on him and wrapped a possessive hand around Garrett's throat, "I expect you to remember: You. Are. Mine. You don't have the luxury of free will anymore."

Anger unfurled in Garrett's gut and it was everything he could do not to fight against the grip on his neck. Against the transparent restraints on his body. "You're a sadist." he growled, unable to stop himself.

It only served to amuse his… master. "And you're a lapdog now. How did you so elegantly put it before? Oh yes, I remember. I'm 'just a thug with underlings who don't measure up in my eyes', that sound about right?"

"Holding grudges, Daud? I would have thought that beneath you."

"Not at all. _You_ , however are." the hand dropped and Daud disappeared and reappeared at the lip of Garrett's prison. "Nail it shut." he ordered the other assassins and then turned his attention back to Garrett. "Who knows? Maybe I'll forget about you entirely. I wonder how long you would starve before you begged to be set free?"

His smile was not a happy one, "shall we find out, men?"

A chorus of agreement bounced around the room as the bars dropped into place and were padlocked together. Then several planks of wood were laid across the only exit and eventually nailed down.

Garrett had kept his expression as neutral and bored as he possibly could while, inside, he had been screaming. His throat was dry as he settled against one of the cold concrete sides and wrapped the bands around his fingers before the cold had a chance to set in. He didn't want to die down here. But if Daud even saw a hint of fear, that would be it for Garrett.

If he knew how much this prison grated on his psyche, Garrett would eventually be put to death in here.

At least now he knew Daud's timetable. At a year and six months, he'd kill Garrett. Not set him free. But for a year and six months he was relatively safe. All he had to do… was periodically piss Daud off enough he'd add time to his sentence.

He would have to earn enough time to survive.

Garrett folded his hands against his stomach and drew his legs up to his chest to conserve his body heat for as long as he could. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against his knees, his back aching in protest. He didn't care…

He just wanted to go home.

* * *

 ** _Expensive Mistakes_ **\- Fall Out Boy.


	12. Ch11: Young and Menace

_**Garrett** _balanced the chair beneath him on its back two legs by propping his boot to the side of the table in front of him and pushing back. He studied the muscles in his thigh as he pressed his boot against the hardwood and then released. Press... release… press… re- _click!_

"Outsider's eyes!" the assassin barked, slapping the lockpicks down on the table.

"Bang." Garrett muttered. "You have met your demise. Mission failed. Would you like to try again?"

"Blow off, kid! This is impossible!"

Garrett smirked as he threaded his fingers together behind his head for some support. "Or you're just an impatient idiot."

The sharp _shink_ of a knife leaving its scabbard had him rolling his eyes. "Put that away. You touch me Daud will have you eating that dagger."

The male seemed to hesitate but not for long because the cold steel slowly rested on Garrett's collarbone, "we wondered about that, kid. How long you been sleeping with him?"

Garrett's eyes snapped up to the assassin and he lifted a brow, "Is that what everyone thinks?" though he was far from surprised. In his time with these men it was obvious they usually only thought with one of their heads at a time. And typically it wasn't the one in the mask.

"Why else would he keep you?" The whaler mused.

 _If only I knew._ "I'd rather be drawn and quartered than get on my knees for _anyone_." Garrett hissed. "Now pick up those lockpicks and prove to me you are not a worthless sack of skin."

The assassin's eyes burned with fury, he wanted nothing more than to lay open Garrett's throat and watch him bleed out, that much was clear. Self preservation, however, stayed his hand. He growled as he lifted the blade harmlessly from Garrett's neck and all but stabbed it into its sheath. He then ripped the lockpicks off the table and went back to the drawer he had been working on for the past hour or so.

Garrett sighed as the wrong tumbler was set and it clicked loudly in the quiet room. "You have met your demise. Mission failed. Would you like to try again?"

"Shut the void up!" the assassin snapped then cursed a couple of times while he stabbed at the lock as opposed to actually picking it.

"All right." Garrett said finally. "I've had enough of this." he dropped his feet to the ground and the chair legs squeaked against the hardwood as they landed and skid slightly.

He crossed the room and pushed the protesting assassin out of the way. "Lockpicking is obviously too much for you, I'm going to teach you how to bump a lock."

"Bump?"

"Yeah, it's louder but, dammit, you're slow." Garrett grabbed a screwdriver from the desk and held it up for the guy's inspection. "And it's much easier though… you're basically breaking the lock. So. Last resort only." _It'll have to be good enough for now._

He forced the flathead into the lock and palmed his blackjack, "Goes in like this, and then just give the thing a tap with another tool. You can use the handle of your dagger. Just don't, you know… stab yourself in the face."

He held the screwdriver so that the butt end was left exposed and tapped the end with the blackjack. He tried to twist the screwdriver and, when the lock held, he tapped it again. He repeated the process until the screwdriver finally turned. Then he pulled the drawer out. "Voilà."

He gestured to the other drawer and handed the assassin the screwdriver. "Don't screw this up. I need some faith in humanity to be restored."

"Excuse me for not being a _master_ thief, your highness." the guy muttered as he did what he was good at.. Stabbing things. Namely the lock.

"I didn't ask you to be. I asked you to be teachable." he rested against the wall beside the table, waiting for this to take forever. Luckily, _Guntar_ was much better at breaking things than using any kind of finesse. The lock broke with a loud crack and the assassin gave a victory laugh.

"Ah-HA!"

Garrett clapped his hands together very slowly, sarcasm absolutely dripping from his words, "Congratulations. Outstanding. I'm so proud of you. Dummy can break a lock."

"Fuck you!" he barked as he stomped out of the room. "Not like I'm going to need this horseshit anyway. I'm an assassin. Not _just_ a worthless thief."

"The word you were looking for is: Barely. You're barely a thief."

The door clapped shut and Garrett sighed as he pushed the broken drawer open and closed, hearing the rattling of the shattered lock. He'd never get out of there if those men kept treating him as beneath them. And it was no wonder they did. They assumed he was _beneath_ their boss.

He shook his head. It was ridiculous. Daud would rather see him maimed and murdered than… _that_ … He hoped at least.

He trudged across the room and headed for Daud's office. He was going to get this rumor nipped in the bud before anything else occurred. He needed Daud's men to take him seriously. If they were serious about learning from him, they would try harder and he wouldn't need to spend hours on one man learning how to pick one lock.

Trouble was, he was taught one-on-one so that was the only way he could think to teach, and Senior had… been so much more patient than he knew how to be. It had taken him months to build up the dexterity to pick a door lock quickly. Granted, he was eight. Senior had gently encouraged him and never once did his temper flare or a degrading slur cross his lips.

Never had he risen his hand at Garrett in anger.

He _must_ have known…

The sisters in the church were wicked in his memories. The scars on the back of his hands and fingers remained from every mistake he'd made with a quill. His sides burned with the memories of every goad toward his posture. What quickly followed was a swift whip in the side that had his back straightening as an adult when the memory hit him unbidden. His cheek was scarred from the ring of the mother who would backhand him for speaking "out of turn." And that was just the tip of the iceberg.

And it was all in the name of those Gods they worshiped.

He must have known.

One slap. One shout. One cross look. Garrett would have left. In a heartbeat and without a word.

Every time Garrett succeeded, Senior had praised him. Every. Single. Time. It had made him work harder. All it took was one little, _"_ that's _my boy!"_

He'd lived for those moments.

Garrett realized that he was so lost in his own mind he had frozen in front of the open door to Daud's office. And he hadn't gone unnoticed. Daud was staring at him expectantly as though waiting for Garrett to speak.

"I… What?" Garrett asked realizing Daud had asked him a question.

Daud smiled slowly and tilted his head to the side a bit. "Something on your mind?"

Garrett hated when Daud looked at him like that. As though he had learned something else that Garrett hadn't offered up freely. "Your men think we are sleeping together." he blurted out because he needed Daud distracted from whatever information he _thought_ he'd gleaned.

His eyes flared and a tight frown set up camp on his mug. "They do?"

Garrett marched in and crossed his arms, "Tell them it's a lie."

Daud came around his desk and cocked a brow at Garrett as he leaned against the table, "What's it matter?"

"It's not true."

"So?"

"What do you mean, 'so'?" Garrett bit. "The fact that your men even have the time to mull about such ridiculousness pisses me off. They don't respect me so they don't learn."

Daud nodded, "Ah. So this is a matter of respect, not the rumor."

"They go hand-in-hand."

"Is that so?"

Garrett fumed, "would you respect anyone being forced to screw their captor?"

Daud smiled again, "Forced?"

"I wouldn't be willing, that's for sure."

"So males do nothing for you?"

How was this complicated? "What's _that_ even matter? Stop picking me for information. I'm only here because I'm forced to stay. I'm only teaching these sodding idiots because you are making me. The deal was I teach your men, my sentence gets reduced. That's it. That's where our relationship ends. Them making more out of it than there is will make anything I say or do menial in their eyes. It's not their lives on hold. It's mine."

Daud crossed his legs at the ankles as Garrett went on. When he fell quiet Daud stared at him as though he should continue. Garrett wasn't playing this game, if Daud wasn't going to stop those idiots from being nosy little old ladies Garrett was going to have to do it.

He growled and shook his head with a fast jerk. "Fine. Be that way." he turned on his heel and marched for the exit.

Only to stop dead at Daud's challenge. "Who's Basso then?"

Cold dread filled Garrett's gut. Dear gods, no… Basso was all he had left, and he didn't know what he would do if the poor old man got dragged into this because Daud thought they had any form of relationship. So he protected the man the only way he could think of. "He's nobody."

"Is that right?" a shuffling of papers perked Garrett's ears but he didn't turn his head.

He didn't leave either.

"'I'm safe.'" Daud read aloud, "this piece says, 'sideways'. This one says, 'don't come looking for me.' That certainly sounds like a note to your lover wouldn't you say?"

Garrett scoffed, playing it off even though his ears were roaring and his chest was tight, "That's weak at best."

"I wouldn't say so."

Garrett schooled his expression, making himself appear bored. Crossed his arms over his chest because it was the best he could do to keep his gut from riling and turned back to Daud. "You're looking for connections where there aren't any. I can assure you. People mean nothing to me. Basso is no exception. He was a fence I was told to contact if the job went sideways." _Stick as close to the truth as possible._

Daud tapped a finger on the shredded papers beside him, "never heard of this fence before."

Garrett shrugged, "He found me where I live. It's a boat ride from Dunwall."

"So he met up with you there? Journeyed by boat _just_ to fetch a thief and bring him back here? Seems like a lot of trouble to go through."

"His employer didn't want to deal with you. Said you were too trigger-happy for his liking."

He nodded slowly, "so this fence left again then? Back to your City? He didn't remain the middle man?"

Daud was twisting the story to see if Garrett was lying, feeding him information Garrett hadn't provided to unravel any deceit. Daud wasn't stupid. Luckily enough neither was Garrett.

Garrett shrugged, "I wanted to get information out of him. He either knew his employer's plan, in which case, I will get revenge. Or he didn't, in that instance I'll leave him be. Whatever the case, I was told to contact Edmund, a black market shop keep here and he would have a way to contact Basso. I don't know where Basso sets up shop. He could be set up in this city, but if he is a fence back where I live, he must be a new player. I hadn't had any contact with him up until he came to me with the job." Okay so that was the boldest lie he'd gone with but it might stop further questions so he didn't regret it.

"Complex." Daud offered.

"Breaking the law can be that way sometimes."

"True enough." Daud agreed, "So someone hired this Basso to get in contact with you. He then asked you to travel all the way here from a different city, steal a trinket on their behalf and then what? Return it to Basso for him to deliver it to his employer? And all this was just to avoid tangling with me?"

"No he wanted me to deliver it to him directly. And considering he turned on me shortly after getting his trinket I'd say it's par for the course. I certainly wouldn't want to screw over a merciless assassin. A shifty thief with reservations about death would be a much safer bet. No matter the cost of his travel."

Daud stared him down, he knew Garrett was not being entirely truthful, but it was clear he didn't know what Garrett's lie was. Otherwise he wouldn't have continued to fish. He smiled slowly and nodded, "all right then. I will see if I can get more information on this Basso character. See if he knew of his employer's deceit. If so, I can have them kill him slowly for you."

 _No! Damn it!_

Garrett shrugged, "killing a pawn doesn't interest me. Besides I want no one dead. You can't regret your decisions from beyond the grave. I want the one who betrayed me to be ruined."

Daud seemed like he considered Garrett's line of reasoning. "We certainly can arrange that."

That was… unexpected. "Why would you want to help me?"

Daud straightened and moved over to the chair by the fireplace. He propped his feet up on the table and laced his fingers together and rested them on his stomach. "You're one of my men aren't you?"

 _Trick question?_ "Yes…" he forced through a clenched jaw.

Which made Daud chuckle, "Well, in spite of what you may think, I take care of what's mine."

Garrett's eyes narrowed of their own accord. "No thanks. I don't need to be further indebted to anyone."

"Interesting way to put it. Don't paint me in a new light, boy. I want your head clear. I give you the revenge you seek, your skills will remain undistracted. Understand?"

"You think me so petty?"

"I think you're human and that you have been slighted." He clarified. "If you're pacified you will be unimpeded, if you are unimpeded you've no excuses when you fail."

" _If_ I fail." Garrett corrected.

To which Daud smiled, "We'll see."

 **XXX**

Exhausted, Garrett made his way to his room, ignoring the assassins' chatter as he passed. Instead, he worked the glove off his left hand as he entered his room and shut the door behind him. He plopped unceremoniously on the bed and twisted his torso so it was laying on the holey bedspread.

He made a point to turn his face away from the, now barred, window in his room. Not even wanting to catch the shadow in his peripherals. Didn't work, the itch to be free nagged at every fiber of his being. He forced himself to focus on the mark as opposed to his prison.

The mark itself never moved, but the glow behind it twisted and warped underneath the inky brand. The memory of the placement burned in the back of his mind and his chest tightened as the images assaulted him.

 _Still bloodied and aching he'd been forced to his knees by the assassins on either side of him. His left arm was stretched out and his palm was flattened on the cold wood of the table in front of him._

 _After a day and a night holed up on that awful pit nursing his sore body and ego, much of his vigor had waned. In spite of this, he struggled in the men's grip using every ounce of strength left in him, "You said I would keep them!" he protested, trashing against the iron grips jailing him._

 _"You will." Daud promised as a belt was looped through small openings in the wood. It secured Garrett's wrist and the man moved his hand so that it held Garrett's fingers flat against the wood, pinning them and leaving the back of his palm exposed._

 _"All my men bare the Outsider's mark, boy." Daud palmed the brand that had been heating in the fireplace behind him. "It has multiple benefits. The most important one for you is that people in this city look for it. You leave my protection, well, you'll be branded a heretic. And heretics are… shall we say they have some very creative ways to execute those who dabble in the arcane."_

 _The brand glowed and sizzled in the air as Daud held it up for Garrett's examination._

 _"Try not to scream too loudly. Weakness isn't exactly tolerated here."_

 _Garrett had yanked on his arm until his wrist bled from the bite of the leather, he'd successfully managed to twerk his upper body free enough to elbow the assassin on his right in the nose… twice. Before another took his place and cranked his wrist up to the middle of his shoulder blades. The pain left him gasping and had him frozen in submission._

 _"I want him to watch." Daud ordered and without hesitation a hand clamped on the back of his neck, fingers digging into the soft flesh behind his jaw and cranked his head up._

 _As the brand came down on his skin, the painful lick up his arm burned white-hot lightning up to his torso. The smell of burning flesh invaded his nostrils and his tendons all drew taut, fighting against the overwhelming urge to scream he'd forced himself to remain still, not wanting any undue damage to come to his hand._

 _The brand peeled away slowly and Garrett let out a strangled cry, the only noise he'd allowed himself to make and it had only made it past his defenses because he was exhausted. What was left behind was a blackened mark that resembled a bird's eye. The skin around the brand had turned an angry red and the pain that ebbed up his arm was as relentless as his heartbeat._

 _Daud deposited the branding rod into the fireplace and nodded at the wooden bucket on the table. The assassin pinning his hand down dropped his grip and snagged the bucket. He dumped the water over Garrett's wound, causing a groan to bubble out of his throat. The cool water only served to irritate the burn on his flesh._

 _Daud waved the assassin away and held his left hand over Garrett's burn. An eerie silver glow rose from the mark at the top of the man's hand. Catching the light and taking form somewhere between steam and tendrils, the glow was oddly captivating. Garrett found he couldn't look away in spite of the pain. He never could resist something shiny._

 _The light tumbled down off Daud's mark and cloaked Garrett's hand in the warm brilliance._

 _That's where the beauty ended._

 _A new bolt of pain flashed up his arm and extended to every nerve ending in his body, a shock that rattled his teeth in his skull and caused sweat to bloom over every inch of his skin. He screwed his eyes shut at the onslaught, breath seizing in his lungs as a deep foreboding gripped an icy fist around his chest. A howling thrum sliced through his temples while a sepulchral chant filled every corner of his mind. The sound was inhuman but as quickly as it had assailed his senses, it receded like the wrathful tides against the shore._

 _It left him breathless, gulping in air as though there wasn't enough in the room to sustain him. Sweat trickled down his spine, cold against his feverish skin._

 _Holy hell… what was just fused into his body?_

"Garrett?" his door creaked in protest to being forced open and the kind doctor backed in, a heavy tray balanced in her arms. He bolted off the bed and held the door for her and she shot him a lovely smile. "I thought you would like some food. I could not find you this morning at breakfast and with all your body has gone through you should not forgo taking care of it."

He cringed, remembering just where he'd been that morning. Still locked in that damn pit until midday.

She placed the tray on the corner of his desk on the far side of his room and propped a hand on her hip while wagging a chiding finger in his direction. "And not a word about there being too much food. I told Daud should you come back to me with your ribs and spine showing again, I would force feed you should I have to. You have no reason to starve and I shall not tolerate it as a form of punishment."

"Really?" he chuckled leaning on the door frame. "And what did he say about that?"

She swept her arm out to the tray and lifted her only delicate eyebrow. "You're expected to eat every bite of it."

Now when he said the tray was heaped with food, he truly meant it. The thing had four plates vying for space and each plate had an assortment of cooked meats, dark breads, and _blocks_ of cheeses. He'd never eaten so much food in his life. Never wanted to.

When you are starving, your eyes are easily bigger than your stomach. Most people eat until they made themselves sick. Garrett had never been that way. When offered more food than he could comfortably eat, he would eat until he was full, but never to the point where he was too sick to defend himself or too tired to find a place to sleep. He did however tuck food away in pockets, so his starvation was staved off for a time.

He eyed it doubtfully, "I could try to finish all that in a day, I guess."

She smiled and upon realizing he was wasn't teasing her, scoffed. "You misunderstand. This shall be each meal."

"You can't be serious." he shook his head. "That could feed an army."

"Well then it would serve you well to get to it, would you not agree?"

"I hope I vomit all over you."

She lifted a brow at his challenge. "A risk I am willing to take."

XXX

He was right.

He'd known he was going to be right.

Had she listened?

No.

Garrett pushed the half eaten plate across the table and glared her way. "I told you I'm full, _mother_. Leave me be."

Doc rolled her eyes and snickered as she pushed the plate back at him. "It matters not. I have seen your bones through your skin. I want another bite."

"And I want all the gold in the world. That isn't happening anytime soon either." he punctuated his statement by pitching his fork across the table.

She followed the fork with her eyes and then lifted her brow at him yet again. "He said you would be this way." she sighed softly.

Garrett prickled at the thought of her and Daud talking about him but he kept that to himself. "Yeah? And he condoned this why?"

"Because…" she folded her hands elegantly in her lap and chuckled softly, "I insisted. I told him I believed he was much too harsh with you. He told me I was being… childish." She made a point to look over at the fork again, then back at Garrett.

He regretted nothing.

And his impassive expression said as much, he was sure.

"I assume you see nothing wrong with being childish."

He didn't even hesitate. "Not in the slightest."

Sighing again she stood and gathered the plate and discarded fork, and settled them on the tray. "You may not have to eat this much every meal––"

"––Good––"

"––However!" she snapped at him. "I will not allow you to skip meals anymore."

He groaned, "my own mother couldn't stand me, how the hell did I manage to attract a new one?"

Her shocked laugh bounced around the room. She cut it off when her hand clapped over her mouth quickly. Her cheeks pinkened and her eyes grew a little. "I am sorry, that was not at all appropriate!"

He scoffed and stood to help her with the tray, "Doc. It's been a long time since I've felt anything for the woman who birthed me. Don't sweat it."

He didn't realize she was staring at him until he hefted the tray up and met her sorrowful eyes. "I assumed you had been kidding. I am so sorry, Garrett. It is sad, indeed, when one cannot stake a claim on one's family. I know how it feels."

He almost dropped the tray. His fingers started to slip and he had to lurch to catch it. He cursed as he set it back down. "I said don't sweat it, Doc, and I meant it. Don't go digging up corpses that have been forgotten about. It's not worth your time."

"All I mean––"

A heavy knock swiveled both their heads toward the door. It opened, unbidden and Garrett scowled at the intruder as the kind doctor dropped her eyes to the ground, her shoulders slumping, and her head turned away from the Whaler.

"What do you want?" Garrett bit.

The Whaler bowed at Doc then straightened as he regarded Garrett. "Daud wants to see you."

"I'm busy."

The Whaler seemed amused, though Garrett couldn't actually see his face through his mask. "He said you'd say that."

"Since Daud knows me _so well_ perhaps he should be the one to fetch me whenever it suits his fancy. Until then, I'm busy."

"Oh, you'll come." the Whaler promised.

"And what makes you so sure?"

Doc scoffed and the Whaler crossed his arms, "He's got a job for you."

* * *

 _ **Young and Menace**_ \- Fall Out Boy.


	13. Ch12: Natural

_**Garrett**_ had no idea where to begin when it came to the assortment of weapons laid out on the table before him. Daud had instructed him to take whatever he felt he'd need for the task, which he'd yet to disclose.

His eyes latched to his blackjack and he immediately snagged it, scarcely believing it had been spared. A small chuckle behind him frustrated him but he refused to let it show. Let Daud think what he thinks, Garrett was making sure to keep what was his.

He passed over all the other blunt force items, the clubs, knuckledusters, and flails being of little to no use to him. Along with the shocking assortment of freaking morning stars. He did pick one of those up and quirk a brow at Daud.

"You do realize that stealing is a profession that requires more… finesse than killing, don't you?"

Daud dropped his eyes to the blackjack in Garrett's hand but said nothing as he loaded up his own, much more lethal weapons.

A whaler tread over and dropped a mask onto the table beside Garrett. He glared at the thing and picked it up to inspect it. It was really no good. The goggles impeded his vision too much to be useful, though the full mask was tempting. Garrett tossed it on the table and made sure his makeshift mask would remain in place. When he was satisfied with the scarf's tightness he pushed it down to settle at his neck.

"I want you to be identified as one of my Whalers." Daud pointed out.

Garret scoffed. "I won't get caught. So what does it matter?"

"Fighting words. I like it."

Garrett rolled his eyes and went back to the task at hand. He retrieved a few of what looked like gas bombs. He turned one of them over in his hands a few times, the grenade looking so foreign he didn't trust it.

He cursed and held it up. "This would be easier if you hadn't destroyed all my tools you rutting bastard."

Daud chuckled and pointed to it while sharpening his knife. "That's a grenade. It will kill half a dozen men in a matter of seconds. They are loud."

"I'm not a child, patronizing prick. I know how grenades work. Don't you have any choke bombs, or-or flash grenades? Literally _anything_ nonlethal?"

Daud stopped working on his blade and took in the table before him. It was a long moment before he selected a few small darts, filled with a strange green liquid and a crossbow. He set the scant items before Garrett who sneered at them. "That's it? Are you kidding?"

"That, and that flimsy little thing you had on you. But yes. I'd take a few daggers, personally. But what do I know? I've only been doing this my whole life."

"My blackjack is not flimsy. And it gets the job done."

"And what job is that? Amusing your enemies to death?"

Garrett didn't bother to reply, Daud wasn't going to trust Garrett's methods until he'd seen the results firsthand. It would be pointless to continue his argument.

He inspected the darts for a time before sighing in resignation. "Please tell me these are not poisonous."

Daud smiled. "Sleep darts."

 _Yeah, fuck you._

Garrett didn't see more than the three Daud had given him and the other bolts had broadhead arrows. He retrieved a few and a knife and one of the flails that looked to have a nice padded handle. "I need twine." he muttered as he used the blade to cut open the handle's stitching on the flail.

He then stripped the padding from the wooden rod by running the blade tightly over the wood, saving as much of the leather as he was able and discarded the whole of the now useless flail. As he went to work cutting the padding into small squares a small spool of wire was placed next to where he worked.

He took the few bolts that he could use, broke off the tips and wrapped the leather over the splintered mess. He then found a wirecutter in the assortment of tools and used it to make small strips of the wire. Which he then secured over the padding to keep it in place. But not before stashing the wirecutter on his person.

He made sure to keep the head of the bolt thin enough so that it would pass through the crossbow effectively and then handed a completed one to Daud. "This is a blunt bolt. Non-lethal. Quiet. Most important? It can reach a switch while you remain hidden. Great for distractions."

He worked quickly with the rest now that he knew it they would be effective enough for the task at hand, though he'd only enough materials to make five, it was five more than he'd had before.

"Impressive." Daud mused, "Though useless. Just kill the guard and be done with it."

Garrett sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. "You wanted me to be a thief for you. Not a killer. I can guarantee to not only swipe everything of value from this job but also do it without anyone the wiser." Garrett fixed a glare on Daud and continued.

"I'll make you a deal. If I raise a single alarm, I will offer myself as one of your assassins for the rest of my life."

Daud barked a laugh and the whalers in the room echoed his amusement.

"All right-"

"-Not so fast." Garrett bit, "I have conditions."

"You're not really in a position to be making demands, boy."

"But then you're too curious to refuse." Garrett grinned when Daud sheathed his dagger and his mouth drew into a tight line. _Got ya._

"Fine." Daud forced out finally, retrieving a pistol and began to clean it with sharp irritated movements.

"If I pull it off, and I will, you will never question my methods again. You'll let me work how I'm going to work and leave it at that. By that, I mean if I tell you I need to work a job alone, I will work that job alone without question, comment, or complaint-"

"-that's a whole lot of assuming where it's-"

"-you'll _allow_ me to work at the best of my ability because I don't need to be dragging dead weight around. Your men need to figure out there's alternatives to killing everyone in the building. In addition-"

"-there's more?-"

"-if I do choose to bring a team they will listen to every word I breathe without hesitation or I will personally cut the tendons behind their knees and leave them as a distraction. Is all _that_ clear?"

Daud's amusement and irritation were tangible as he strolled up to Garrett, the pistol in his hand very, very visible. "Little dark for you, isn't it?"

"I won't kill them, doesn't mean I wouldn't use them in a pinch. 'Specially if they screw up my job." Garrett promised.

The barrel of the pistol pressed onto Garrett's temple. Sheer stubbornness is what kept him from flinching when the hammer clicked as it was engaged. "I won't allow my men to be harmed by the likes of you, little rat."

"Then maybe you should consider my deal. Or you could always just spray my brains all over the room, but then again, you would have to find _another_ master thief you can extort, wouldn't you?" he pressed his temple into the barrel to make his point. "I'm not seeing any line up for you at any rate. But go ahead."

Daud's lips peeled back from his teeth and a grunt of irritation left him as he dropped his arm, and the threat along with it. "We'll play by your rules... for now. But make no mistake, you harm my men I'll take my revenge out on your flesh."

Garrett scoffed and started packing up the scant tools he could use. "Make you feel like a big man? Beating a kid who has no choice but to obey you?"

He really should have known Daud wasn't going to put up with anymore of his insubordination. He should have stopped while he was ahead, but that damn defiance streak… it just had to show itself.

The backhand should have been expected really.

Garrett was knocked backward with the force of it. Pain blossomed at his hip where he stumbled into the table and he hissed as he brought his hand to the throb on his cheek. He squeezed his eyes shut and put a tight clamp on all his muscles.

The last thing he needed to do was retaliate.

If he garnished more time, the humiliation would be worth it. He tried to convince himself of that. The turmoil in his gut told him he hadn't.

"I'm getting tired of your tongue, kid." Daud's voice was low and threatening. "Let's get a move on, before I reconsider letting you keep it.

Probably a good idea. He mused as he spat blood on the floor beside him.

And though it took every ounce of self control, he turned on his heal and marched out of the room as though nothing had happened.

 **XXX**

Garrett settled in on his haunches while he and Daud awaited the rest of his whalers. "At this point I'd love to remind you I still know nothing about this job."

Daud nodded and grinned as he jerked his chin toward the keep before them. "You have three targets."

Garrett fixed a glare on the man.

The expression was not missed, "too much for you?"

 _With the meager tools you gave me? Yes._ "Of course not."

He smiled smugly and his eyes drifted back to the keep. "The first item will be fairly easy to retrieve. Do you know what this is?" Daud fished in a pocket on his person and flashed a trinket that Garrett lifted a brow at.

It was nothing special at all. No gems, no precious metals. It looked like two pieces of ash-wood adhered together and secured with wire. The edges were charred as well. What caught Garrett's eye was the symbol carved in the side.

The mark of the Outsider…. Just like the charm he'd found before.

And just like the charm he'd found before, Garrett felt strangely drawn to it. The faint ringing it gave off both soothed him and made his instincts flare as though he were being watched.

Yes. He knew exactly what it was, though he didn't know what people called them. But _should_ he know what they are?

He shook his head at Daud and added a slight head tilt as an extra precaution.

"It's known as a bonecharm. Used in tandem with the mark, they can be rather invaluable tools. The one you will be retrieving will look similar." He handed a square of folded parchment to Garrett who took it without comment. "I've marked the location we think it may be held along with your other target."

"Which is?" he asked tucking the map away.

"A very old painting, as I said it should be with the bonecharm or at the very least be found somewhere near it. You'll know what it is when you find it. It will depict a well dressed man with black eyes."

"Fine. And the last item?"

Daud's grin widened then. "a ring."

"All right, no problem. What's it look like?"

"It's the Empress' signet ring. She never takes it off her finger, or so I'm told."

Garrett said nothing. He let his glower do the talking.

"Problem, _master_ thief?"

It was. But damned if Garrett was going to admit it. Impossible task meet immovable object.

"Not in the slightest."

Daud nodded, "That's good. I'd hate for you to trip a single alarm and have to make good on your word. That would be tragic, wouldn't it?"

Garrett skipped over that line of thinking, "Where can I find the Empress?"

"You'll have to look for her. All my agents were able to find out was that she never stayed in one place for too long. Comes with being an Empress, I suppose."

Garrett looked back at the keep and frowned, it was impressive. Finding one person in all that acreage would be quite the task.

"Since I'm sporting," Daud chuckled, "A little advice: try her apartments first. Those are located at the top of that tower there. If you're lucky she'll be sleeping."

Never had Garrett prayed for luck or welcomed someone wishing it on him. Luck is for the inept. It was for the incompetent. Relying on it would only get you killed.

He hoped for it now.

He nodded, "Fine. Is that all?"

"This is the Empress' home. You are a thief. Fill in the blanks there, kiddo."

Garrett held his tongue only because one side of his face still smarted. He needed to keep Daud mad at him but he needed to be careful not to push him too far. Frustrated was good because time would be his punishment, true anger on the other hand was a death sentence. And he wasn't willing to die here.

"Bonecharm, painting, ring, and anything else not nailed down. Got it."

"And don't get caught."

Right. That too.

 **XXX**

Guards patrolled outside, but the vast area they were given to cover offered Garrett multiple opportunities. He marked four entrances with weaknesses in their ranks. A sleeping guard here, one milling about aimlessly, as though bored. One reading and one busying himself with a scullery maid over in the shrubbery.

The one reading was very close to the door and it was lit relatively well so he scratched that one as an option. He couldn't sense a pattern to the bored guard so he turned his attention on the sleeping guard. His post was well lit as well but it was tucked near a corner of the building so it seemed the best option.

He climbed down off his perch and swiftly skirted along the lavish gardens the grass crunching softly underfoot. He tucked himself under a shrub and waited for the wandering guard to pass. He rounded around one of the trails and was headed right for Garrett. He seemed to take his own sweet time passing, and as Garrett was about to cross over to the other side, a patrol of two appeared. He ducked back down and cursed under his breath.

He had to expect the keep to be difficult to enter. Were it not for the wanderer he'd be inside by now.

He calmed his breathing and tensed his muscles as they neared, this was an active patrol. The guards' heads kept a revolving swivel, eyes searching the shaded areas for, well, people like him.

The patrol caught sight of the sleeping guard and one of them broke off to kick the sleeping guard's leg to jostle him awake, "Look alive, you sodding slob!"

 _Damn_ … Garrett cursed mentally as the sleeping guard came awake with a start while drawing his sword. He shook his head and the patrolman glared him down, "you're relieved, Private. Report to the Lieutenant and tell him you were sleeping at your post."

The Private sheathed his weapon and swallowed tightly, "Aye, sir."

He strode off on uneasy legs and the patrolman took up the last guy's seat.

Great. Just freaking great.

Garrett eased out of the bush and hoped the guard who couldn't keep it in his pants had remained uncaught. It would be more difficult though perhaps not impossible. He was relatively slow going due to the boots he'd been given. The soles of which were heavy and loud, he made a mental note to see if he could find a pair that were even slightly more malleable. A new pang of irritation hit him, Daud was such a bastard. Burning his stuff had been completely unnecessary.

He forced himself to calm. Strong emotions on a job were never smart to have. He needed a clear head to remain undetected.

He sighed quietly in relief as he made it over to the guard and the scullery maid. They hadn't yet been spotted by the remainder of the patrol and were still… doing what they were doing.

Garrett stopped just short of the door when he heard a gasp, he ducked into a shadow and froze, scarcely breathing. He waited for a breath or two before realizing the maid hadn't actually seen him. She'd gasped for a different reason.

He shook himself and headed back for the door. The lock was not a difficult one. Though he took it slow since they were very close, though they were occupied they were still mere feet away. _Mercifully_ , the door opened quicker than he'd anticipated and he slipped in unnoticed.

He took a moment to breathe in relief, that was much too close for his comfort. He'd never have chosen that route if he'd had another option. All the maid or guard would have had to do to catch him was turn their heads. And that had been a very real possibility.

He tucked himself under a table and waited to see if any guards decided to patrol down there. The room was clean but obviously not where the royal family frequented because the walls were bare. The furniture, likewise, was simple and there weren't any personal items scattered anywhere. It looked like a sleeping quarters only in that there were at least eight different sets of bunk beds lining one wall.

A few of the beds were occupied but other than that the room was bare. With as many guards that are needed in this keep he supposed it was a kindness that they had this provision for their guards.

Garrett pulled his map out and attempted to situate himself. One thing could be said about Daud, his maps were detailed. Much more so than what Basso had given him. Basso could learn a thing or two from… he stopped that line of thinking quick as a gasp. The only way Daud and Basso would meet would be over his dead body.

And even then it would be because his fence would want to kill the bastard responsible for his best thief's death.

Garrett found where he was on the map, he was on the bottom floor and his first and second targets were located in the basement. He found three different paths that could lead him where he wanted to go and he committed them to memory as best he could. He tucked the map away and headed for the first available doorway.

It gave way to a small hallway which Garrett crept close to the wall as he attempted to keep the galumphing of the boots to a minimum. The lack of guards inside did little to ease him.

In fact, he'd not be able to take a real, full breath until he was well outside of this keep.

He'd navigated through the bottom floor, fairly easily considering he was lurking around an Empress' home. He was in the basement before long and it seemed almost forgotten, so perhaps his luck was holding out. He remained quiet, though he was pretty sure he was alone. Better to be safe than sorry, especially on this job.

He milled about, sneaking into the storage rooms, snagging anything gold or silver that had been left out and could fit in his pockets. Then he headed for the room marked on his map. The door was much more impressive than the rest, with a combination lock. He took a quick sweep around the room to see if anyone may have left the combination somewhere.

He checked the desk and only found an inkwell and some coins of small value. There was a bookcase across the way that he searched through quickly as well. There was a note that said the combination had been changed recently, but not what the combination was. Just to report to one of the Lieutenants for more details.

He headed back over to the door and did one last sweep before heading back upstairs. He'd avoided going near guards in an effort to reduce the chance he'd be seen. But it looked like he'd have to persuade someone to give up the combination. If that meant intimidation, so be it. He needed to get in there.

Garrett followed the stairs back up and circled around to where he remembered seeing a room set up as a sort of break area. He'd avoided it before because it was so open, there were no hiding spots. He ducked into an open doorway nearest to the room, as luck would have it, it was a little closet with a door. He could sit tight until he was certain no one was coming.

The guards in the room were talking, the low murmurs that reached Garrett attested to that. Garrett drew his crossbow and loaded it with one of the blunt bolts. He readied a sleep dart by sticking it between his teeth and hoped the frail vial didn't crack. He made sure another was easily accessible then he ducked out into the hallway.

Managing to keep the boots quiet by just barely lifting them from the floor as he moved was impractical, though he knew he could. The going would be slow. Instead he channeled the mark on the back of his hand, willing the void to move him to the other door.

The transversal was quick, clean, and quiet. The perfect tool for a thief really. While he hated Daud for everything he'd done to him, he did love this perk.

He pressed his back against the door frame and sunk into a crouch. He swung his head around to get a bead on the location of everything in the room, then pulled back just as quickly. His memory had always been good. Excellent even. At a glance he could recall a room in almost precise detail. He'd always been that way. And it had been an invaluable tool in his line of work.

The men, there were only two, were back in the corner of the room, playing cards and drinking ale. But that wasn't what he'd been looking for. The light switch was on the opposite wall from them, at an odd angle from the doorway, but he couldn't complain too much as it was the men's only light source. And therefore the best way to spook them.

He slowed his breathing and readied the crossbow, as he slowly stood to aim however, the sound of a door opening and shutting around the corner caught his attention.

 _Damn it!_

He Blinked over to the closet and hurried inside, ducking behind the door but keeping it open just in case. The guards rounded the corner almost immediately as he'd hidden, so he was grateful he'd not hesitated.

The two guards seemed to be arguing quietly among themselves, Garrett strived to hear as they drew near. "It's just funny, is all. I know he's Lord Protector but I feel like we should still post some guards up ther––"

"It's not your place to judge or think, Hartman. Besides the Empress has been on edge. Little Emily has been keeping her up at night. Poor kid is having nightmares lately. While I don't agree, Corvo is more than capable. Just focus on your job. Let him focus on his." the other one groaned and there was the sound of knuckles cracking.

"I need an ale, tonight's dragging on forever."

 _You're telling me._

Garrett peeked around the door after he heard the footfalls pass him. He tucked the sleep dart away and holstered his crossbow, cursing the stupid thing as it fought him. There had to be an easier alternative to the crossbow, it was big and awkward, at least Senior's bow had been relatively flat. Besides, he didn't really trust something with so many parts to it. One little glitch and it was curtains for a thief.

The guards were near enough that he could pick both pockets before they made it to the other room. He snuck up behind them, drawing his purse cutter, which was just a dagger that was unnecessarily big for the kind of work he had planned. It was sharp though so with a practiced snip, both purses were in his possession and he was down the hall without either of them the wiser.

Fishing in both as he hid around the corner, he found that one of the men was a Lieutenant. He had a small ledger in the purse that had guard assignments, schedules, and a number of other notes on each guard. He leafed through the ledger until he came across an entry detailing the items Garrett had been sent for along with a few other items that gave this Lieutenant "the willies".

Garrett scoffed as he found the combination and tucked the ledger in one of his pockets, "Thanks for the notes, Lieutenant."

With the combination in his pocket he hurried back down to the basement. He checked around to make sure there were no traps on the safe itself and set the combination. A loud click sounded as the lock was disengaged. The safe's handle resisted a bit but with a little elbow grease and determination he was in the vault.

The first thing that the light hit was the painting he had come for. He smiled as he took in the other treasures the room held. Most of it was too cumbersome to carry with him, he realized as he frowned at a rather impressive full body mirror with what looked like emeralds inlaid into the edges.

He ran his fingers over the gems longingly.

What a waste of quality jewels.

Rich people made him sick. Locking away such treasures.

"Sorry. Not here for you." he had to tear himself away but he spotted the charm as he backed up. He scooped it up and filled his pockets with anything he could. His eyes caught a small jewelry box and he lifted it, whatever was inside rattled as it rolled around. The lock was engaged and Garrett smiled as he snuck his lockpicks out.

A locked box inside of a locked safe?

Gotta be something good.

He set the box down as he went to work on the lock, the tiny click music to his ears. When he opened the thing, though, he frowned down at it. He had expected some kind of family heirloom, or a massive diamond, really anything of higher value.

But it was more of those bonecharms. He picked one up and twirled it between his fingers. Was it really bone? Human bone? Or something else?

Disappointment filled him as he collected the charms, Daud would take them. He'd already expressed that they were useful, though how Garrett was still unclear on.

"'Used in tandem with the mark'." he repeated as he held one up to the light. He shucked one of his gloves and channeled the mark, the glow throwing shadows in the otherwise darkened room. Then he pressed the charm to his left hand. The charm began to thrum and the carving glowed with the same power as the mark.

 _Swift Shadow…_

Garrett flicked the charm and darted back as the words permeated his mind. He didn't understand how but he _knew_ what the charm was supposed to do. Knew without asking, without needing to be told, he just… knew. And he had zero explanation for it.

He glared at the charm on the ground.

All this magic was going to be the death of him. He found himself cursing Dunwall again. The people who lived in this city were insane! The lot of them. He shook his head and used the glove he still held to retrieve the charm without touching it then he slipped his glove back on. Pocketing the thing he cleared the rest of the room before setting his sights on the painting.

The man in the portrait looked out of the piece with a judgmental expression. Donned in aristocratic attire and somehow managing to look like a blue blood even though he was comprised of paint and canvas, Garrett assumed he had been a lord or baron. But those eyes. Charcoal black and seeming to be vast and endless. And not solely the iris', the whole of his eyes seemed… tainted.

Garrett unsheathed his purse cutter and pierced the canvas as close to the frame as possible. Then using the frame as a guide, he quickly ran the sharp blade around the perimeter of the frame, the canvas softly popping as the fabric was severed.

When it was free he rolled the painting up and slipped it in his quiver.

Well, the easy part of the job was out of the way.

He sighed and twisted his head on his neck to loosen up a bit. After all, his next task would be that signet ring…

Off the Empress' own finger…

Without raising a single alarm…

"If this isn't how I die I'll be shocked." he scoffed.

 **XXX**

The Empress' apartments were high up the tower, which Garrett was _not_ grateful for. In fact the whole trip up, he was cursing and swearing to kill Daud if she was elsewhere.

He did however appreciate the fine architecture of the Empress' grand apartments. What with its high ceilings, decorative alcoves, and bookshelves aplenty. The place was _made_ for hiding. And he used it to the fullest extent possible.

He noticed that her apartments were curiously lacking guards as well, it seemed the Empress enjoyed her privacy, it was either that or she was actually elsewhere for the time being.

Garrett slipped from one shadow to the next, checking the door handles as he went along. When he found a locked one, he picked it, pocketed as much as he could and moved on to the next room. It was quiet, the hearths in certain rooms, however, were lit so someone had been there.

He kept his eyes sharp and his ears strained for any noise or shadow that was not of his own making.

He stopped at a pair of ornate double doors at the end of the hall. If an Empress had a room anywhere in this _grand apartment_ it would be here. He made sure to check his surroundings before peeking through the keyhole. He didn't see anyone in the bedroom, though he found it a little odd that the sheets were tousled, the bedspread trailing toward a closed door which Garrett assumed was a washroom of some sort or another.

He chanced a venture into the room, an odd rhythmic sound had him cocking his head toward the bathroom. He couldn't quite place it, the water sloshed, echoing off the walls but there was something else… he shook his head and glided over to the vanity, picking off jeweled trinkets and pocketing them.

He was pleased at just how much he'd managed to accrue but he was running low on space so he was choosy with the jewelry he picked. He needed to get with Daud about his uniform. If he was to be stuck doing this for a year, he needed more _pockets_ for crying out loud.

He stopped by a painting of a regal woman and child in aristocratic clothing, the woman had the little girl as close to her as she could manage, her hands resting on the girl's shoulders, the girl practically in her lap, and they stared solemnly out at nothing. He ran his fingers over the gilded frame, hoping to find a safe behind such a brazen portrait but no dice.

A feminine cry broke through the room, followed quickly by a deep male grunt. "...Feel good?"

His instincts the driving factor, Garrett ducked behind the bed as the deep male voice rumbled behind the closed door within the bedroom.

"Mmmmnn… Yes…" a woman moaned, "Corvo…"

...Sex…

That was the sound he'd heard before, he realized with a sneer.

Was there something in the water? Damn, how many couples was he going to overhear tonight? He rolled his eyes as she made a high pitched gasp that was followed by a satisfied chuckle from him. _Ugh… gods,_ he moved to leave but froze at the door.

 _Corvo?_ Why did that name sound familiar?

He groaned as he realized Corvo was that 'Lord Protector' being talked about by those two guards. Garrett slowly turned to the other door.

Was… was he seriously having an affair with the Empress?

So… he had ordered the other guards clear out because they were feeling… horny?

Garrett chuckled quietly. "Good on you, Corvo. Thanks for the opportunity." he wasn't planning on disturbing them but if the Empress was in there, he needed to know. And–as much as he didn't _want_ to–he needed to know if she had that ring on her finger.

He checked around the room for a vent or something he could squeeze through. Upon seeing nothing he approached the door and braced himself before peeking through the keyhole.

He ignored the couple going at it in the bathtub and let his eye roam over the room, a glint on the sink catching his attention. He zeroed in on the gold and his chest tightened up, there it was.

The Empress' signet ring.

Apparently there was at least _one_ reason she would remove it.

Opening the door as slowly and quietly as he was able, he kept an eye on the couple, though that was the last thing he wanted to do. They were both facing away from him and… were very intent on what they were doing. He still had zero desire to go into the room. His goal was less than four steps away, but that was a four steps where he'd be exposed.

He bit the bullet and swooped forward, snatched the ring, and slipped back quicker than he'd ever moved before.

His eyebrows lifted in surprise of their own accord. He made sure the door was shut and then traded the ring for the bonecharm in his pocket.

Well, well, well… so it worked? It truly allowed his speed to increase while he remained stealthy… he snagged a large black handkerchief with gold embroidery off the desk beside him. He wrapped the charm in it and tucked it into his mask, tying the ends together around his neck so it remained hidden. This one was useful.

Daud would have to fight him for it.

He allowed himself a moment to revel in his victory.

He'd done it!

He got the Empress' ring!

And neither her or her guard had a clue!

He whispered the door to the bedroom closed and sighed in relief. He'd had his doubts before but now he was certain he would be able to avoid all detection before the night was over. He'd won this victory over Daud. It would be the first of many. He'd make sure of it.

"Hi."

A young voice from behind him made his stomach drop.

If there was a god, he certainly enjoyed screwing up Garrett's optimism.

He turned on the kid slowly, not wanting to startle her. After all, all she'd have to do is scream and he'd be caught. Quickly.

"Who you?" She asked cocking her head to one side in question.

Pinching his mask, he pulled it down so the whole of his face showed to the girl. Garrett looked around for anyone coming down the hall as he thought up a lie.

"Corvo-friend? You look like Corvo-friend?"

This kid knew Corvo? She must be important maybe she was his kid or his ward or something. At any rate, Corvo was definitely the guy he should pretend to know.

The girl was donned in a fine white nighty with a small pink blanket draped over her shoulders. Her round chocolate eyes were curious and rimmed with sleeplessness. She cradled a doll to her chest that seemed to be dressed for bed too, complete with a bonnet. Her dark curly hair was sleep tousled so it was clear she _should_ be in bed.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm Corvo's friend…" he lied quickly. "...He wanted me to make sure you were sleeping."

She frowned and glanced at the door to the Empress' bedroom. "Corvo?"

Garrett stepped in front of her and held his palms up at her, "Whoa, hold on. Corvo and the Empress are…" oh good gods, what is he supposed to tell this kid? "...Busy right now. That's why they sent me." he cleared his throat and gestured down the hall.

"Why are you up, sweetie?"

Her eyes grew wide and she shook her head, her black curls bouncing by her ears. "I have bad dream. Mommy check my closet."

 _'Mommy?'_ the Empress was her mother? Though, thinking back, she did resemble the little girl in the painting. He glanced at the door smirking, _Naughty, naughty Corvo. Getting an Empress pregnant._ He'd heard no one mention an Emperor so the only logical assumption was that they'd been having this affair for what, over five years now? If the age of the girl was any indication.

He cleared his throat again to hide his mirth and scrubbed his mouth with his hand, trying to fight his amusement. "Why should she check your closet, little one?"

She swallowed and glanced back at what he assumed was her door. "Bogeyman."

"Bogeyman?" Seriously? He worked hard to school his frown and keep a neutral expression on his mug.

She nodded vigorously, clutching that doll to her chest like a lifeline. "He eats kids."

...O...kay… What the hell kind of bedtime stories was she reading? "Oh. Um. Okay. Well, I'll protect you." He offered her his hand as he moved away from the door. "Show me the Bogeyman. I'll remove him."

If it was possible she looked even more terrified. "But he eats kids!"

He dropped into a crouch and lifted his hand at her in a halting gesture, while he took her tiny hand in his own. "Shhhh… I'm not a kid. I'll be all right. And I'll make it so he leaves you alone forever. Okay?"

She stared at her door, it was clear she was apprehensive. "Promise?"

"I promise."

Her eyes narrowed, she pursed her lips and held her pinky out to him, "Pinky promise?"

 _Jeez, what was it with this kid?_ "Yeah, sure. Pinky promise."

She looked at him expectantly for a second before he shrugged, "What?"

"You 'apposte to hug pinkies."

Hug. Pinkies? Yeah fine, what the hell? He wrapped his pinky around hers and gave her one good shake. "Now let's see this Bogeyman."

She buried her face in the doll's bonnet and he followed her to her room. She pushed the door tentatively and pointed at a wardrobe sitting catty corner in the bedroom. "He there."

She hurried over to her bed, hopped in, and burrowed under the blanket. Her round eyes peeked out from under the blanket at the foot of the bed. He shut the door quietly behind him and put his finger to his lips for her to stay quiet. Her head bobbed under the shroud, nodding in agreement.

He crossed the room and opened the door to the wardrobe slowly, making sure she couldn't see inside. He glanced around all the puffy dresses and shiny shoes, looking for anything a kid would be afraid of.

"What's the bogeyman look like?" he asked leaning around the door.

"Little... Dark... He got pointy teeth."

Pointy teeth? He checked again and started to rummage through the clothes at the bottom of the wardrobe. Something _clucked_ as he pushed a coat out of the way. It sounded heavy and the girl squeaked from her hiding spot on the bed.

He picked up the heavy object and turned it over in his palms.

It was a black and white porcelain doll whose face was painted like a jester. And sure enough, the teeth looked sharp due to the crappy paint job. It chimed when he moved it, so there was some kind of mechanism inside its core.

The mechanism inside the doll activated unbidden, a twinkling nursery song emitted from the thing. It must have been old because certain notes screeched like a witch being boiled in oil. Garrett found he couldn't blame her, if he'd found this as a kid, he'd have burned it. The music skipped to a halt and the mechanism inside powered down.

The girl whimpered when she heard the noise.

He moved over to the window, popped the latch, and whistled to catch her attention. "Hey kid."

She whimpered again but her eyes showed from under the blanket.

"The Bogeyman is dead." he stretched his hand holding the doll out the window and released it, the thing chiming faintly as it fell.

She gasped and jumped out of her bed, running over, and grasping onto the ledge to watch it fall.

"He can't hurt you anymore."

She stared at the ground below, or rather the darkness that had swallowed the bogeyman, being that they were too far up the tower for the ground to be easily visible.

"He gone?" she asked softly.

"Yeah kid. Now I kept my end of the deal. How's about you hop in be-"

The girl whipped around and latched around his midriff in a crushing hug. Her arms still tremored and she buried her face in his abdomen. "Thank you, Corvo-friend."

Garrett froze up, momentarily stunned by her actions. He'd only destroyed a doll. It was a silly thing to be scared of. But then… thunder had scared him as a child, hadn't it?

He patted her head and gestured for her to head to bed. "Sure thing, kid. Now scat. You should be sleeping."

She nodded, flashed him a smile filled with adoration and followed his direction.

The window had a ledge and from what he could tell, there were sufficient footholds all down the side of the tower in the form of decorative trim. He could climb down easily. He grinned and slipped out the window.

"Wait!" The girl chirped and he glanced back as he pulled his mask in place. "You fall!"

He shook his head. "Don't worry. Shadows don't fall. They fly. See ya later, kid."

He latched onto the concrete and twisted as he swung out. His feet hit the ledge beneath the window and he began to make his descent.

He'd made it.

The job was done and everyone within the Empress' employ were blissfully unaware.

If he'd been honest, he'd say he had even surprised himself.

* * *

 _ **Natural**_ \- Imagine Dragons.


	14. Ch13: Tangled Up In You

_**Jessamine** _wrapped the end of her braid in a ribbon, smiling as she secretly watched Corvo dress in the mirror. He still needed to do a few patrols that night before he'd join her back up in the apartments so he was getting the full ensemble together. They used to be able to sleep together during the night, Corvo simply would wake early enough to sneak around the regular patrols so that nothing seemed amiss. Since Emily's nightmares had gotten worse though, it had been too much of a chore to try to keep that up.

She supposed that's what led to their spontaneous meetings whenever Corvo had the excuse to send everyone away.

The strain of keeping the secret from Emily was proving to be taxing. At some point they would have to tell her or she would figure it out on her own. The scandal that would follow should others find out wouldn't be anything they couldn't handle. But it would certainly mean raising Emily to be respected would be that much harder.

After all, Corvo was high ranking by merit. Not blood.

And blood was all the aristocracy cared about.

She sighed as he pulled his trousers up over his ass and fed his belt through the loops. He glanced over his shoulder and flashed his dimples at her, making her heart flutter. "Problem, my Empress?"

She shot him a coy grin in the mirror, "It's just such a shame to cover that glorious ass, would you not agree?"

He shrugged as he turned and slipped his shirt over his shoulders, letting it hang open while he donned his boots. "Well, you'd know better than I. It's always behind me."

Jessamine chuckled and swiveled around in her chair to regard him directly. "You know I love you. Don't you?"

She didn't know where the question came from. Truly. She simply had to tell him. And in return she needed to hear him say it as well. Perhaps it was because of all the lying and sneaking around they had to do, but she always felt badly that she couldn't outright tell anyone that he was hers and she was his.

Almost as though he was some dirty secret to be kept from the world.

Though that was far, far from what she felt for him.

Those deep brown eyes lifted from his laces and zeroed in on her. The intelligence burning within them had always captivated her. Corvo had always seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. And he always knew what to do or say to make her feel better.

He unfolded to his full height and crossed the bathroom to take up both her hands. He looked her in the eyes as he kissed the knuckles, first on one of her hands and then the other. "My Jessamine." he growled low in his chest.

He pulled her hands up so that they rested on his chest as he knelt before her and cupped her face in those callused fingers. He coaxed her head to the side and ran his lips over hers, not kissing so much as teasing them both. Her hands fisted the lapels of his shirt and she yanked him forward, causing those dimples to flash again as he kissed her in earnest this time. When they parted they were both panting, their hearts pounding, his beneath her hands, hers roaring in her ears.

"Of course I love you Jessamine." he growled as he kissed along her jaw and traveled down her neck to nibble at her collarbone. "I always will."

Her fingers threaded through the silky strands of his hair, her arms encircled him as best she could, and she made sure her grip was strong. His warm arms wound around her waist as she opened her legs to accommodate him.

They remained that way until a chill traveled up her legs and spine. Her body quaked enough that Corvo lifted his head and plucked her robe from the chaise lounge beside them.

He wrapped it around her, allowing her to slip into the sleeves. "I'm sorry." she offered as he tied the waist together. His eyes lifted to hers again and he ran his knuckles over her cheek.

"Because you were cold?" an impish smile crossed his lips, "Shame on you."

She couldn't help her grin as she swatted his shoulder, "wise-ass. I'm convinced our daughter inherited that from you."

He gave her a mock look of disbelief and pointed at his chest while shaking his head. "I would never teach our daughter sarcasm, what sort of father do you take me for?"

"I suppose you didn't teach her to sword fight either?"

He pursed his lips and fought a chuckle. "Well that's just good sense."

"Oh, Corvo." She argued. "She's a little girl."

"She's the daughter of an Empress and should know how to kick a man where it counts."

Jessamine cocked a brow at him and folded her arms over her chest.

"You don't scare me." he rumbled as he stood and began to button up his shirt.

"Yes. I suppose I'm not frightening. That's what I have you for."

"Ouch. Are you sure Emily got her sharp tongue from me?"

"Actually that reminds me." Jessamine stood, suddenly serious. "Emily's nightmares are getting worse every night. She keeps insisting there is some creature in her room that eats children."

"What of it?"

Jessamine sighed, "Whenever I ask her about it she gets scared and clams up. You… you don't read her scary stories… do you?"

His eyebrows nearly hit his hairline but he donned his vest and a frown deepened the lines on his face. "I don't think so. I mean, we read about pirates but never anything with creatures. What about those kids you have her play with? That Teagan is older than her and I've caught the little shit pulling her pigtails. I wouldn't put it past him to scare her with a story."

"I suppose that is a possibility. And pirates hardly seem like something she would be afraid of."

Corvo scoffed. "Afraid? The girl wants to suit up and lead them. She calls herself Captain Drexel. Claims the name Emily isn't 'scary' enough."

Jessamine frowned, "Wouldn't Captain Kaldwin sound just as scary? Plus then there's the alliteration."

Corvo buttoned his coat and finger combed his hair, "Yeah, you go ahead and try to argue that with the five-year-old."

"I gather you've tried." Jessamine found herself giggling.

"'Till I was blue in the face."

Jessamine padded over to him and retrieved his belt of weapons from the table. He flinched, his fingertips brushing over hers but then he pulled his hand back. He didn't like her near his weapons, he had told her once that such an ugly thing like a pistol or a blade should never touch her hands. But then she was the Empress, she could do as she pleased. And though she respected him enough to obey his wishes for the most part, there were times he needed to be reminded that she was powerful as well.

She looped it over his hips and fed the end of the leather through the buckle, securing it in the well worn notch. It rested heavily to his right, in favor of his pistol hand, the blade was secured at his back.

Jessamine didn't miss the shutter that ran through his body as she brushed her fingers over his hips. His hand gripped hers and he leaned over her to steal another kiss, "You, my dear Empress, are chipping away at my self control."

"Oooh, am I?" she laughed, "well you'll simply have to find your way back up here again won't you?"

He growled, gripping her shoulders he pushed her back against the wall and fisted her robe so it split open. "I'll make my rounds fast." he promised drinking in every inch of her, a hungry look in his eyes.

"If you're dressed when I come back up here, I'm tearing it to shreds."

Jessamine gasped as he captured her lips in a hungry kiss, his hands caressing over her hips, her stomach, her breasts. Just a taste of what was to come, of that she was sure.

When he drew away he flashed those dimples again and winked as he dipped down to kiss each of her nipples before folding the robe back over her chest.

"...mmmnn…. You insufferable tease…." she moaned.

"How do you think I get you to keep coming back for more?" he chuckled.

"You're certainly right. I'm sure it is not your charm."

Corvo took a step back and clutched at his chest as though he'd been wounded but his eyes twinkled with mirth, so he took no real offence. "Damn woman. You are savage."

She waved at him regally and attempted to chassé by him, which proved difficult on wobbly legs. He certainly had the ability to turn her into a puddle but she didn't have to let him know that. He snagged her arm as she passed, his eyes lingering on her legs, the smile unbudging.

Well… she'd certainly never admit it at any rate. He knew what he did to her. And he loved every second of it.

"Would…" She swallowed past the sudden dryness in her throat. "...You like to… come with me." she cleared her throat and those eyes bounced up and held hers, "To tuck our daughter… into bed?"

He nodded as he brushed a flyaway bang away from her face. "Yeah, maybe we can get her to confront this 'monster' she's so scared of."

Jessamine sighed, the moment broken, "Corvo, it's late and she needs to sleep."

"No one should ignore their demons."

"They certainly don't need to fight them after bedtime."

He cocked a brow at her. "That's when the demons come out, Jessamine."

She sighed again and shrugged out of his grip, "Fine. But you can stay up with her all night and you can have her all day tomorrow while she's moany and whiny and cranky because she was kept up all night."

"Exactly how is that different than every other day?"

"Fair point." she moved over to the bureau and tucked her earrings, hair clip, and necklace into the open jewelry box. Only to frown and check her fingers for her ring. It wasn't in the jewelry box or on her person. Cradling one hand in the other she backed away from the bureau to check the floor.

A horrible dread filled her gut as she glanced at the sink.

"Something the matter?" Corvo asked seemingly to appear beside her from out of nowhere.

She braced her hands on either side of the porcelain bowl and groaned, "Please don't be mad…"

"What is it?"

She pursed her lips and gave him an apologetic look. "I took my ring off, the one that opens the safe room, and I set it on this towel." She pointed down at the towel beside the sink. "I think… it may have fallen down the pipes."

Corvo's eyes shut and he exhaled sharply through his nose. "Damn it…"

"I'm sorr-"

Corvo held his hand up to stop her apology. "Don't worry about it. It's fine. I just… damn.. I really hate that man."

Jessamine wound her arms around his midriff and kissed his chin. "Corvo, Sokolov is simply…"

"A petulant child with illusions of grandeur."

She laughed in a short burst but covered her mouth at Corvo's glare. "I was going to say eccentric but I like yours better."

He groaned and motioned toward the door, "I'll take care of it tomorrow, let's put our baby to bed before the big vein in my head decides to pop."

"I truly think you are overreacting."

"He called me a grasping, uneducated troglodyte."

Jessamine felt her eyes widen, "Oh. My. Well, what did you say to that?"

Corvo scoffed, "I didn't. I gave him a black eye instead. I think I only confirmed his theory though."

Jessamine sighed and grabbed his hand to lead him out of the room. "This is why you don't have friends."

"I don't want friends."

Jessamine had to admit she did prefer him all to herself but she couldn't help but wish that he'd at least try to have a drink with some buddies every once in a while. But he'd always been a bit of a wallflower. Standing on the sidelines watching others as opposed to jumping in with his own opinions. No, he kept those to himself for the most part. And he never got close to anyone save herself and young Emily.

Jessamine stopped at her daughter's door and cocked her ear at the wood to try to see if she could hear anything.

"Do you think she is already asleep?" Corvo asked glancing up and down the hall, as though someone would pop out of an alcove.

"I don't hear anything." Jessamine opened the door slowly, if Emily was sleeping the _last_ thing she wanted to do was wake her, seeing as how she hadn't slept a full night in over a week.

The light from the hall pooled into the room, but Emily was not in her bed. She was half hanging out of the open window, leaning out like she was peering at the ground. Jessamine's stomach dropped, her heart freezing in her breast. She gasped and rushed forward, " _by the Isles_ , Emily!" Corvo tore into the room behind her, both of them racing to the window on the far side of the room.

She and Corvo both made it to the girl at the same time, Jessamine grabbing hold of her nighty while Corvo snatched her arm and pulled her inside.

"Mamma!" Emily protested as she was plucked off her feet and deposited on her bed by the Lord Protector. "I okay! Shadow save me!"

"What exactly do you think you were doing, young lady?" Corvo barked as he latched the window closed and folded his arms at her.

"I-"

"-You could have been killed." Corvo snapped and Emily dropped her eyes to her knees.

"But… Shadow save me."

"What in the Isles are you talking about Emily?" Jessamine huffed as she ran her shaking hands over her little girl, assuring herself she was okay.

Emily's chin quivered as she glanced up between Corvo and Jessamine. "Ta' Bogeyman scare me. You friend throwed him out the window."

"What do you mean, what's a Bogeyman?" Jessamine asked.

"What friend?" Corvo gripped his knife and Jessamine tracked the movement. She shook her head subtly at him and his eyes darted around the room. Probing the darkness for threats, no doubt.

"Emily, listen to me very carefully." Jessamine drew her daughter's attention to her. "Was there a person in your room tonight?"

Emily nodded and Corvo cursed and began to search the room in earnest.

"What did he look like, baby?"

Emily frowned, here eyebrows marrying and she clutched her doll to her chest while she shook her head. "He in trouble?"

"Emily. It's very important you tell me what he looked like." Corvo coaxed as he nodded at Jessamine, giving her the all clear.

"No!" Emily shouted and buried her face in the doll's bonnet.

"What?" He snapped, obviously the scare was shredding his self control. He usually only took that tone with the guards.

Jessamine held her hand up at Corvo. "Why baby?"

Emily lifted her father's eyes and bored into Jessamine with the same intelligence that burned in his. "He save me. I not want him in trouble. He nice!"

Corvo paced the room a couple of times before he'd seemed to calm down enough to sit on the edge of Emily's bed. "You said he was a shadow? Was it possible you were dreaming?"

Emily blinked a few times and her eyes drifted to the window. "Sleeping?" her eyes grew wide and she pointed at her wardrobe and squeaked. "Bogeyman still here?!"

Corvo stood and crossed the room, his hand still on his dagger behind his back. He pushed open the wardrobe as Emily whined and crawled off the bed and into Jessamine's lap, shaking like she was freezing.

Corvo rummaged around the small closet before turning around and shrugging at Jessamine. "There is nothing in your closet, Emily. There is no more Bogeyman."

Emily stretched up to see into the wardrobe and then pointed to the window. "He there?"

Corvo marched over and unlatched the window, throwing open the panels. He glared down at the ground, his eyes squinting for a moment before snapping back up to her. "Was the Bogeyman a doll, sweetie?"

Emily nodded and Corvo sighed in relief. "It's okay Jessamine. It looks like Emily was spooked by a doll so she threw it out the window." he certainly didn't wait to lock that window again.

"So the Shadow is imaginary?"

"Not-uh!" Emily protested. "He real! He throw the Bogeyman!"

Corvo didn't seem alarmed with the girl's insistence that helped Jessamine's heart calm as well. She lifted Emily into her bed and proceeded to tuck her in, "Emily. It's important that you never, never, never hang out of a window like that again. You could get so very hurt and that would hurt mommy so much. Do you understand, my love?"

"But mommy-"

"Emily Drexel Lela Kaldwin." Jessamine warned, wagging a finger at her.

Emily made a face but nodded, "Yeah ma'am."

"Thank you, baby." Jessamine kissed Emily's forehead and fluffed her pillow, tucked the blanket around the girl, and patted her head.

"Corvo mad me?" Emily asked as he ghosted over to the opposite side of her bed.

He shook his head and his shoulders eased quite a bit. "No sweetie, I'm not mad. You scared me though. Please don't ever do that again."

Emily frowned and dropped her eyes, "Okay."

"That's my girl." He praised as he ruffled her hair, she giggled and grabbed at his hand.

"Corvo kiss?" she asked expectantly.

He chuckled and gave her a small peck on the forehead. "You need to sleep, little princess."

She smiled and burrowed more deeply into the cushions. "Okay. Love you mommy. Love you Corvo." Obviously the week of sleeplessness had finally caught up with her.

Her eyes shuttered and Jessamine hummed, "We love you too, baby. Sweet dreams." Jessamine stood and made for the door, Corvo following suit.

As Corvo closed the door behind them Jessamine rested her hand on her stomach, the turmoil still affecting her a bit. Corvo's arms enveloped her from behind and she sunk into the embrace with a sigh, "I feel much safer when you are around, Corvo."

He chuckled in her ear, some strands of her hair, flying with his mirth. "Then I promise I'll never leave you. And hey, it looks like Emily is starting to fight her own battles."

"Mmmmnn…?" She hummed, "And how's that?"

"The Shadow. It must be her way of being courageous or something, that kid is terribly imaginative."

Jessamine chuckled as she turned in his arms. "She is. Were you imaginative as a child?"

Corvo smiled and brushed his nose against hers. "Well, I don't like to brag about it but I did spend an inordinate amount of time pretending to be a knight. Having grand adventures in far off places."

She wondered briefly if he was joking or if that was really what he was like as a young man. She didn't press, he did need to get to his duties after all. "Well then. I wouldn't have her any other way."

She claimed Corvo's lips, long and slow, when they broke apart she gave him a wicked grin. "Now Lord Protector, make your rounds. And be quick about it. I'm anxious to see you in my bed this eve."

"Yes my Empress." He breathed, pecking her lips, "you won't even know that I'm gone."

 **XXX**

 _Swift Shadow…_

Garrett examined the bonecharm back in his room, away from the prying eyes of the whalers. According to Daud, Garrett was required to have a whaler watching him from now on. His only private spot was his quarters.

Daud said the he'd taken too long on the job, so long in fact that Daud had sent someone in after him to ensure Garrett hadn't attempted to make a break for it.

Which honestly, Garrett couldn't think of one good reason why he hadn't.

The challenge, obviously. But that wasn't necessarily a _good_ reason. It was just _a_ reason.

The job had been dangled in front of his face and, like a fool, he'd complied. And somehow he still managed to get punished for it.

He needed a solid plan to get out of there though, not some half baked, spontaneous escape. He wouldn't get far that way… he'd already tried and it had bit him in the ass. No he needed to be more vigilant, he needed as much information on the whalers and their whereabouts than he'd cared for.

If he knew the whaler's rotation at the very least, he would be one step closer to mapping out an escape route.

And the bonecharm would make his jobs in the meantime that much easier.

His mind drifted to that little girl and how hard she had hugged him. Her chocolate colored eyes winking in the moonlight. He rubbed at his stomach and smiled secretly. He was glad he'd run into her. She'd made him truly amused for the first time since his confinement. And for a moment he hadn't even thought about his chains.

He'd almost forgotten what that felt like.

He chuckled as he wrapped the charm up in the black handkerchief with the gold embroidery and lodged it up under the rim of the desk.

He didn't have much but he would have this. For once since he'd gotten here he felt like he'd beaten Daud.

He had one victory under his belt.

From now on when he went on jobs he was the one who called the shots.

And as a bonus, he had a charm that helped make his life a bit easier.

* * *

 _ **Tangled Up In You**_ \- Staind.


	15. Ch14: Lithium

**_Garrett_ **didn't see the plate in front of him, he pushed the food around with his fork. He'd been in his head all day, he had been memorizing the rotation of Daud's assassins since he got back from his last job. They worked faithfully three days and were expected to take the fourth day off. He had his own special little schedule, he only worked when Daud personally gave him a job.

Garrett had also begun mapping the Flooded District in his mind, since writing anything down was dangerous. He'd come across twelve possible escape routes he could take _if_ he could shake his shadow.

He rolled his eyes as the man settled into the rafters above Garrett, the wood creaking under him. _Amateur!_ Was Garrett _supposed_ to know he was there? Was it a taunt of some sort? If Garrett was a betting man, he'd put every last cent he had on that bastard taunting him like that. Garrett pushed his plate away from himself and dropped his head into his hands.

The back of his right hand still itched like crazy but he hadn't been able to test whether or not he could… remove it. Not with eyes on him.

To be honest he wasn't too thrilled to test it anyway, he could only think of a couple of ways to get rid of it and all of them would be painful. He had never dabbled in magic, hadn't wanted to. You couldn't predict it. It was a wild card and for the most part the payment always outweighed the benefits. The fact that Daud relied so heavily on it was… perplexing. Daud was by no means a stupid man, neither did it seem he was in any way religious. So why had he decided to use something that would almost certainly backfire on him?

His men all beared the mark. Though it didn't glow on them like it did on Garrett or Daud. And from what he could tell, they couldn't feel it either. It was hard to describe, it was cold and the best feeling he could equate it to was like a low level shock was riding around on the back of his hand.

Daud didn't show any signs of strain when his men used the abilities he passed on to them either. So the connection must only be during that first… ritual and then it's up to the other individual to power the thing. Garrett had tested it, not that he had much of a choice. And the more he used it the more… drained he felt.

He gripped his fork as the rafter above him creaked again. He pivoted in his seat and hurled the fork at the rafter like a throwing knife. It made the most satisfying noise as it sunk into the into the wood and wobbled back and forth at high speed. "Tell Daud to send someone with _some_ skill! You're pissing me off!" Garrett pitched the chair to the floor and stormed out of the room.

The whaler scoffed as he left, "You're a menace to cutlery, you know that?"

Garrett cringed, _yeah_. Not the first time he'd pitched a fit and the nearest object got the brunt of it. Not the first time he'd used silverware either.

He had no real destination in mind, he just wanted to get away from that obnoxious lackey.

He stepped out onto the barren rooftop next to his room and sat with his knees curled up to his chest. He longed to be home but he suffered no illusions, if he was going to be free he was going to have to be smart.

He glanced at the back of his hand, the mark glowing subtly under his glove. Did Daud have any connection to it now that it was on his flesh? He hadn't considered that before, what if Daud could… track him or- _gods forbid_ \- read his mind? Garrett scowled at the mark.

 _Damn it!_ Even if he knew anything about magic he doubted he could figure it out. And he sure as hell wouldn't be asking anyone.

He would have to test it.

But what sort of consequences would that reap?

The air displaced beside him and he groaned. "Can't I get a moment alone?"

"'fraid not." Came Billie's muffled reply. She must have just come back from a job, or she was getting ready to go on one, otherwise she wouldn't be wearing her mask. "Daud wants to see you."

"I'm busy." Though clearly he wasn't, just any way to irritate the man brought a smile to Garrett's face.

"Sulking?"

Garrett kicked a plank off the roof and lifted a brow at her, "brooding."

"Uh-huh. Whatever. Daud says 'jump.'" She reminded him. "Now let's go, he's already pissed. Best not to keep him waiting." She dropped through a hole in the roof and Garrett glanced out at the night sky.

He entertained the idea of just leaving. Picking himself up and racing across Dunwall, stowing away on a boat and going… anywhere. Anywhere at all that wasn't here.

"Kid!" Billie snapped him from his reverie.

"Yeah, yeah…" he sighed and dropped through the same opening she had. She was waiting for him, looking bored. Though how she did that with that mask on he'd never know. She turned on her heal and briskly made her way through the rundown buildings that Daud used as a headquarters and home.

It occurred to Garrett that most of the areas they passed were vacant. It was odd because there were usually men posted… everywhere. In what seemed like a haphazard fashion. Garrett had observed them and still he couldn't figure out if they actually had anything they were guarding or if they were just making it up as they went along.

He nearly ran into Billie as they rounded a corner and there were the missing assassins. All huddled up in a semi-circle staring at Daud, who stood with his back to them in the center. It looked like everyone gave the man a wide berth, no one was within three feet of him. Were they _that_ afraid of him?

"So we are all here, then?" he asked quietly.

How had he known? Garrett glanced at his hand again, maybe he could sense where all his people were.

"Good." his voice was far from it. His body language threw malice like it wasn't anyone's business, though his hands remained clasped behind his back and his face remained fixed on the pit in front of him.

He lifted his head the barest bit and asked, "Billie?"

Her hand latched onto Garrett's arm so hard he gasped, "-the hell?" she didn't answer, instead she dragged him to the center of the circle and flung him at Daud.

It was only Garrett's graceful nature that kept him from plowing into the man. Instead, he skid on his feet and managed to maneuver around him. Irritation had him crossing his arms over his chest, "What the hell do you think I've done now?"

Daud smiled, "I'll get to it, boy."

Garrett attempted to hide his tense of frustration, if Daud knew something got to him he would be relentless. As it was, Garrett wasn't referred to by his name. Ever.

Daud turned and regarded the other men surrounding him. "Brothers. Tonight we've lost a comrade in death. He was taken from us by one of our enemies. By a traitor bearing our mark."

Many of the assassins turned their eyes to Garrett at the same time realization hit him. _Shit!_ Garrett dropped his arms, _oh damn_ , Daud thought Garrett had killed someone? But that didn't make any sense, Daud had eyes on him since he'd gotten here. He _had_ to know that wasn't the case. Panic began to claw at the back of his throat as Daud carried on without slipping a beat.

"He will suffer a punishment befitting his treason." Daud continued, "And he will face it now." he gestured up and two assassins swooped into the ranks. There was some commotion and then they appeared again, dragging along another unmasked assassin.

The captive struggled in their grip, fighting for dominance, "Wait! Stop! It wasn't me! I didn't do anything! Let me go!"

Garrett took a step away from Daud, only for his arms to be captured and wrapped behind his back. "No, son." A muffled male voice said in his ear, "Daud wants you to see this."

Garrett was in such disbelief he didn't fight against the hold on his arms. He was expected to watch? Well, they got their wish, he couldn't tear his eyes away if he tried.

The male was flopping around like a fish attempting to break free when Daud finally raised a hand at him, the mark so bright it was a beacon, and the other male froze, his only movement the strained breath heaving his chest. "Enough of your pathetic pleading. At least face your punishment like a man."

Daud nodded and the two holding the traitor dropped their hold and stepped back, but not far. The male's eyes were wild with panic but it was obvious he couldn't move. He didn't look like he could even speak.

"Your actions met in one of your comrades death at the hands of the weepers, do you deny this?"

His mouth seemed to be the only thing Daud permitted to move, "Yes! It was an accident, _please!_ "

Daud didn't seem like he bought it. His features just grew darker. "Don't insult me. I don't take acts of treason lightly."

"But I-" suddenly his eyes grew wide and his mouth seemed like it was forced shut by an unspoken command.

Daud held his hand out to the man again, the mark glowing brighter still. "Kneel." He ordered and the male fell to his knees. "You killed Malaki, it was no accident. I have eyewitnesses. You fought over a trinket, he was rendered unconscious, and you purposely pushed him into a known weeper den for him to be eaten alive."

As Daud relayed the account the man began to visibly sweat and his body started to tremble.

"Own up to this and your death will be easier."

The man blurted out, "I don't know what came over me! I didn't do it on purpose! One minute he was there the next he was gone! It was an accident, I swear!" suddenly he got quiet again.

"Wrong answer." Daud growled. "Be aware this was not your first transgression. I've had men beaten by your hand to the point their limbs don't work right anymore. One of your first training bouts, your teacher died from a blow that was too hostile. I need soldiers, not children with too much muscle and not enough brains. I need men who fight for my will. Not thugs who murder to suit their needs. You swore to serve me. To follow my orders. You're in my home. And I don't take the death of my brothers lightly." He sliced through the air with his hand and the two assassins gathered him up and dragged him over to the pit. They stopped at the edge and then waited, both of them staring at Daud.

He raised his hand again and the male screamed, his hand glowing brightly. "You're unworthy to bear our mark."

The male started to fight again and one of the assassins stilled him with a threatening blade to his throat. Again they waited for Daud's signal.

But instead of giving the command Daud turned his glare on Garrett and then he disappeared into thin air. Nausea and dread roiled in his gut as Garrett felt his arms get traded into another set of hands, a set much larger than the first. Then he was being pushed toward the pit as well. Garrett dug in his heels and protested as he threw his full weight into the body behind him. It did little to stop the forward momentum, he had about half the muscle mass and was a head shorter the other man. They came up short at the edge of the pit and Garrett was bent over it, the arm forcing him forward as unforgiving as steel.

"Sto-" his voice dried up in his throat and he found his muscles wouldn't move. But it wasn't because Daud had been controlling him. Fear threaded through every fiber of his muscles, anchoring him in place. The floor of the pit was… writhing, flowing back and forth like a sea of black.

"What is at the bottom of this pit, boy?" Daud demanded. "Say it loud enough for everyone to hear."

 _Dear gods,_ was it really…? "Rats." he breathed with a shutter.

"Not just any rats. See how they move, boy? See the shear volume of them? One rat, a man can kill. Three, not an issue. But dozens? Hundreds? Thousands?" Daud seemed to let that sink in as he chuckled. "These are plague rats. They are always hungry and a legion will eat a man while he's still breathing."

Garrett began to fight again, pushing his body back, thrashing his shoulders. _Shit!_ Was Daud going to throw him in?

Daud just laughed at him and stood up straight, hauling Garrett up with him. "Do it." He commanded and the two assassins dropped the traitor into the pit.

As soon as he hit the bottom, shrill squeaks arose like steam and his screams cut through the air as the rats swarmed his legs and ascended his body. It was evident that the man couldn't utilize any powers to save himself by the way he began to flail and claw at the invasion. No, Daud had stripped that from him, perhaps he was the only one who could.

Garrett shut his eyes and turned his head, it was bad enough he had to hear this, he didn't want to see it. Daud's palm wrapped around the back of his neck and he forced Garrett's head forward, "Open your eyes." he demanded.

Garrett shook his head to the extent he could and moaned, "No.."

The hand clamped harder and Daud's voice dropped to a threatening whisper, "Open your eyes or I drop you in."

Garrett trembled, his stomach twisting in fear and disgust but did as he was told. The screaming gurgled away and the figure crumpled over. Garrett couldn't even tell it had been a man, it was part of the writhing black sea by that point. Like ink with a will of its own, and it slowly deflated, melting into the floor.

Garrett could barely breathe as he stared at the place the traitor had been. And the meaning of this display was evident. Daud would make a lesson out of him too, should he escape. Should he refuse to conform, he will be the man they allow to be eaten alive.

A sharp pain bloomed at the back of his skull as his hair was captured, and his head was yanked back. Garrett saw stars. His hands, finally free, clasped at Daud's grip.

"Now," Daud snarled in his ear, "You are to say, 'yes Daud' when I command you." he tightened his grip, tearing a cry of pain from Garrett's mouth. "Or you _will_ end up like him."

The pain at the back of his head was nothing compared to the words he forced out. It was like fire leaving his lips, "Yes-Daud."

"That's a good boy." he mocked, making Garrett stiffen in irritation. Then he pulled them both away from the pit and flung Garrett to the ground.

Garrett couldn't even move, he had brushed much too close to a brutal death for his liking. His body was limp with exhaustion and he was too scared to care that everyone had seen him in such a weakened state. The prideful chuckles around him barely registered in his mind, nor did the sound of booted feet retreating on hard floors. All he could hear were the rats and the thundering roar in his ears that was his heartbeat.

There would be no escape for him.

That was the message Daud wanted to send to him.

If he left them, it would be because Daud killed him.

"Hey kid." dimly he was aware of someone standing in front of him but he didn't acknowledge them. "You heard me. Snap out of it, kid."

He lifted his eyes to the figure in front of him… that was Billie. "Daud's got a message for you."

Garrett didn't bother to ask.

"He said, he knows what you're planning."

 _What?_ How could he? He'd been so careful!

She smiled, her mask now hanging from her belt, and Garrett was hauled up by two men. "And he's not happy about it. Looks like you get to spend a night locked up." she chuckled and added, "Don't worry, no rats."

If he'd had an ounce of energy left he would have struggled, being locked up with his thoughts was the _last_ thing he needed. Still, he couldn't muster the will to fight. He was too caught up in his mind. His plans were destroyed before they had even come to fruition. He couldn't believe he had been found out, that his escape was now beyond his grasp… or maybe it had never been a possibility to begin with.

He was a never going to be free, he realized, if Daud really could read his thoughts he'd never be able to out maneuver him.

He was Daud's slave for the rest of his life.

He'd truly never escape.

Not with his life, anyway.

* * *

 ** _Lithium_ **\- Evanescence.


	16. Ch15: Colors

_**Billie**_ stared at the kid as the light of hope drained from his eyes, he stopped struggling in Daud's grip and a profound sadness seemed to overtake him. Daud snagged a chunk of the kid's hair and reared his head back so he could make sure he was paying attention.

"Now." Daud growled. "You are to say, 'yes Daud' when I command you. Or you _will_ end up like him."

The boy began to sweat and though his hands were attempting to remove Daud's grip, he seemed to give up on his true battle, "Yes… Daud…" he repeated, clearly struggling to form the words.

"That's a good boy."

The kid bristled at the mock praise but all the tension left his body as Daud backed away from the pit with him in tow. Daud shoved the kid to the ground and left, his point having been made.

Some of the men chuckled as they passed him and Billie simply focused on the broken floor above him. As she transversed, her surroundings suddenly changed and she was up on that floor. She followed in the direction Daud had disappeared, no doubt he was going to see if we had anymore jobs lined up. That's all he ever does anymore.

She wondered why he had bothered with that boring, if brutal display of power. If the kid is an issue, kill him. What was so special about this kid that Daud not only wants to keep him alive but he went out of his way to put the kid on a short leash. It was a harsh lesson to learn. Why had he bothered?

She dropped down into vestibule outside of the room that Daud had converted into a sort of office space, and pushed through the doors without making a sound. He was standing in front of their board, reading one of the job requests, looking… lost in his own thoughts. She took a seat and stared at the back of his head, knowing he was aware of her presence. He ignored her for a good long while before sighing and turning to pin a glare on her.

"I can feel the hole in the back of my head." he ripped one of the flyers off the board and padded over to his workbench and started arming himself.

"Don't ignore me."

He shrugged as he clipped his weapons into place, "I figure, if you were going to say something, you'd say it."

She cocked a brow at him but stayed quiet. He knew what this was about.

He sighed when she didn't say anything for a few minutes. "It's the kid." he clarified.

"Why are you wasting your time on him? He's no assassin. It's obvious he has no respect for you. Besides all that fear will only keep him docile for so long, you know that."

He picked up his blade and examined it. He pushed a sleeve up and tested the edge by laying it flat on his skin and attempting to shave some of his hair. He frowned, picked up a grindstone and started working at the edge. "You're right." he said simply.

She waited. With Daud there always was a reason. All tools were used to their full potential, and his people were his greatest tools. And with Daud you waited for him. He'd tell you eventually, you just have to be patient. So you wait.

"He got past my assassins, Billie." He said finally. "No one knew how close he was into our lair until he was _in this office._ "

Billie shrugged, "So he made it past some young recruits, so what?"

"Not all of them were green, Billie." he fixed a glare on her. "He snuck past seasoned assassins. He was under their noses." he barked a laugh with no humor whatsoever. "He was in my damn pocket! I know talent when I see it. Now if I can harness that, turn it in the direction I want it to go… there's nothing our men can't do." He continued his mensurations on the blade.

Billie shook her head and stood while crossing her arms. He had to know this kid wasn't _that_ special. "You need his trust before he'll train anyone."

"No I don't. I just need his cooperation." He smiled darkly to himself, "and now I have it."

"Only because you scared the shit out of him."

"Precisely. Speaking of which, I was going to go easy on him tonight but I've changed my mind. Tell him I know what he's been planning and I'm not happy about it. Throw him in one of the cages for a couple of days."

"What's he planning?"

Daud smiled while he inspected the newly sharpened blade, catching the light and flashing it in Billie's eyes. "No idea. But he always is."

* * *

 _ **Colors**_ \- Crossfade.


	17. Ch16: I Am an Outsider

_**Harsh**_ light pooled into the cell where Garrett was imprisoned. His eyes were screwed shut so the only way he could tell was the red that flashed against his eyelids. The creak and screech of the gate above him let him know that his "punishment" was over. He wished he could say he was relieved but the truth of the matter was he'd pushed past his misery from the night before and was now trapped in an oddly hollow purgatory.

The cold didn't help. He had curled up in the center of the cell, shivering hard as he huddled around his hands. While they weren't necessarily warm, they didn't ache from the chill either. While every other part of his body was frozen, his hands were kept safe.

"Wakey wakey, _Master Thief._ " a whaler chuckled mockingly, his mask muffling the noise.

Garrett lifted his head slowly, though he hadn't slept throughout the entirety of his stay in the cell, his lids fought against him when he attempted to open them.

"Oh come on, kid. Daud's releasing you. I ain't got all night."

If he didn't move soon, he had the feeling this whaler would lock the gate again and leave him there. And Garrett seriously didn't want to spend another second in that frozen pipe. Trouble was, his muscles had no interest in moving to his will. He pushed himself to a crouch at the very least, his arms and legs a quivering, useless mess.

A groan of irritation from above had him glaring at the whaler, who simply cocked that horrible mask at him, "Any day now."

Not able to think of anything else on such short notice, Garrett called the void to the mark on his hand. It heated his arm as he focused on the lip of the cell and transversed to the edge. One of his feet slipped, and he hissed as he pulled himself back over the edge.

"It's about bloody time."

Garrett cleared his gravelly throat and narrowed his eyes at the whaler, " _you_ spend the night locked in that icebox. Let's see how you fair."

The whaler chortled as he dropped the gate closed on the cell. "Unlike you, I'm loyal to Daud. Learn to pick your battles a little wiser-"

"-I did _nothing_ to warrant this torture." Garrett snapped. "Daud likes someone to abuse. Don't pretend your leader is anything more than a sadistic bastard with a gang of ruffians."

The assassin laughed as he drew his flintlock and aimed it at Garrett's chest. "I'm an assassin, mate. I've got the power of the Outsider behind me and the trust of the most powerful man in the Isles-"

"-Arguably-"

"-Besides, I could blow a bloody hole in your chest and Daud would probably pin a metal on me. Now get your snarky ass up before my trigger finger gets the itch."

Garrett scoffed. "That's your argument? 'I'm right because I have more firepower. Go on fight me. I'll prove it.'"

Garrett's shirt was snatched up at the collar and he was yanked to his feet, the muzzle of the pistol thrust into his gut. Garrett groaned as he crumpled forward, his gut acting like it planned to make a break for it, lurching and forcing him to gag. As he coughed his hair was gripped and his head was lifted.

"Know what I think? I think pain gets you off. I think you crave it so you piss everyone off 'till they hurt ya. Does that sound about right?"

Garrett reared his head, looked the bastard in the goggles, and spat on him.

With a snarl. the whaler released Garrett's hair, cocked the flintlock and-

"-Oy! Don't you dare." Thomas barked from the doorway his warning freezing the Whaler in place. "Damn you, Bertram. Did the two of you learn nothing from yesterday? Daud will skin you both if he finds any more damn in-fighting. Put your weapons down. Right now."

"Weapons?" the whaler asked and Thomas dropped his eyes to Bertram's lap.

"You may not want to get any closer," Thomas clarified, "looks like the thief is ready to cut your balls off."

Garrett smirked as Bertram's chin slowly dipped down to see where Garrett held the knife he'd stolen off him. There are two surefire places to threaten a man with a blade and he'll do as he's told: the throat and the crotch. Usually, they are less emboldened when their boys are threatened. "I have the situation well in hand, Thomas. Go play with Doc, huh?"

He had chosen well, he decided as the whaler stopped breathing. Looked like keeping his manhood was important to him.

"Low blow, thief. Never thought you'd be the type to threaten a man's jewels like that."

"That's kind of the point of a low blow."

Thomas made an irritated noise, "Shut up, kid. We both know you just wanted to scare him. Congratulations. You've done a bang up job." Thomas marched in glowering at the two of them. "Bertram, get out. Go meet up with Jenkins. I'll deal with you later.

"And kid?"

Garrett cocked a brow at Thomas waiting for him to continue.

"Back off. Don't make me get Daud involved." Thomas' voice was low. Garrett was well aware the threat was not an empty one.

Garrett loosened the muscles in his arm, the blade dropping away from the other man's groin. The whaler drew in a shaky breath and stumbled away as he attempted to holster his gun. He tried three times before his goal was met. He then grumbled as he marched on uneasy legs out of the room.

Garrett lifted the blade at Thomas, offering him the handle. Who snatched it from him with a growl. "Do you know how to do nothing but cause trouble?"

Garrett found himself smirking and shrugged. "It's a gift."

"A gift you need to learn to taper." Thomas bit.

"Do I? Daud will kill me eventually anyway. Why bother?"

The muscle in Thomas' jaw ticked with irritation as he ground down on his molars, "Maybe, maybe not. That all depends on you. Now come on. I need to put you somewhere you won't cause trouble."

 **XXX**

Garrett cringed as the bolt slid shut behind him, effectively locking him into his room.

Why not, at this point?

Daud loved to shut him in one prison or another. His room was simply a marginally warmer and more spacious cell.

He shuffled over to his bed, pulled the covers back and burrowed into the old, dipped mattress. He curled into a tight ball and tucked the blanket over his head. If he shut his eyes and banished the noises from the weepers down below and the Whalers around him he could _almost_ pretend he was home. In the house he'd inherited from Senior. In the City he knew with every fiber of his being.

He longed for the smell of Basso's tobacco that he used to hate. He missed the husky cackle of the older male. The way his eyes crinkled with crows feet when Garrett's wit amused him. The, let's face it, always rough hands as they slapped Garrett's shoulder, or ruffled Garrett's hair in spite of his many protests.

He'd trade anything, everything, just to have a chance to see the man again. To have that familiar irritation fill his chest.

Garrett wrapped his arms around his chest and recalled the way Basso had taken him in after Senior had died. Helped Garrett bury the body of the man he'd loved and respected beyond anyone else in the world. How Basso had said nothing as Garrett had broken down, his knees going too weak to support him and tears streaming down his face as the last of the dirt settled over Senior's body.

He'd been so weak and Basso hadn't said one word.

He'd allowed Garrett to grieve for hours in a frozen, rainy graveyard. And when Garrett had finally calmed, Basso had helped him to stand on numb legs and brought him back to the pub to drink himself into a stupor…. That lasted an entire week.

And they hardly ever spoke of Senior. Any mention of him only ever crossing their lips briefly and the subject was then quickly changed… because Basso knew it was too much for Garrett to bear.

Basso was without a doubt in the world the most infuriating, brazen, and contrary man he'd ever known.

And though he'd never admit it, Garrett loved him as the only family he had left.

Would Basso look for him? When Garrett never returned, what would he do? Would he mourn Garrett's supposed passing, or would he hold out hope that Garrett might come home one day?

Would he leave the candles lit?

The candles Senior and he had put out when he was a boy. The protection they put in place for him if he'd ever gotten lost. Black waxed candles, in ten foot increments up to a street away and hidden on the rooftops, you'd have to know what you were looking for to see them.

Being a thief is a nasty profession, many people want you dead, even if you were only a child. And if you cannot find your way home, you may as well be dead. For a young boy in the City alone, the way home can be dizzying. Somewhere along the way the candles had no longer been needed but Basso continued to light them anyway. Leaving a trail home every night.

Garrett wondered how long until the old man gave up waiting for his kid to come home.

He didn't want Basso to give up on him, but realistically he knew better. Basso would move on quickly, find a thief of similar caliber and work with that person.

The City, the world, would keep turning without him.

Just as it had with Senior.

He cracked his eyes as a stiff, frigid draft worked its way under his cover.

Ugh… his window must be open.

He screwed his eyes closed again and huddled deeper into his nest, tucking the holey old bedspread over his chilled body as much as he could in an effort to keep warm. He hated to be cold, it numbs the bones and turns the mind to sludge.

He attempted to ignore the shivers hurrying across his flesh and the goosebumps that formed wherever a opening in the bedspread allowed the chill to enter. He wanted sleep but he'd never be able to achieve that goal if he was frozen.

With a growl he threw the damn-near useless blanket to the floor and marched over to the window. Only to stop short when he realized both of his barred windows weren't actually open. The draft whipped around him again, his arms quickly drawing to his chest to fight off the chill. His eyes darted over to the corner of his room where his door was.

Or rather had been.

An entire half of his bedroom was missing. Replaced with a vast, cold wasteland that seemed to stretch on for eternity. Giant shards of obsidian slowly drifted together to form a bridge of sorts. One shard carried with it a gas powered street lamp which flickered on as it joined the others in the makeshift bridge. It did little to illuminate the rocks below or the opaque sky around it. It seemed to, instead, throw menacing shadows over what little ground had formed.

Garrett blinked a few times, the cold seeping into his clothes and the vision before him remained despite his mind's insistence that this was simply impossible.

He slowly retrieved the bedspread from the floor and tucked it around his shoulders.

The soft, distant call of a whale brought his attention back over to the surreal expanse invading his room.

"I must be dreaming, right?" Curiosity moved him over to the opening and he peeked through the ragged edges of the portal. He then placed a tentative foot on one of the shards to test its stability.

They held solid. As solid as the ground should be. When he ventured a glance over the side his stomach did a flip. That would be quite the fall. The vast nothingness below didn't even appear to have a bottom.

He swallowed and pressed his full weight on that leg, making sure it wouldn't suddenly give way underneath him. When it didn't he turned his attention to the streetlamp. He padded over to it and tapped it with his knuckles. The hollow _tang, tang, tang_ telling his ears it was, in fact, there. The feel of the cold metal told his fingers that it was there. But it simply _couldn't_ be there.

He shook his head, convinced he was delirious from too much cold, lack of sleep and from lack of food. It was either that or he was having the most vivid dream of his life.

"What if I were to tell you, you were wrong on both accounts?" A disembodied voice banged around in Garrett's skull. The sound flickering from ear to ear as though warped by the icy wind of that place.

He shook his head again and whirled back toward his room, intending to burrow into his bed for a few days but… his room was gone. And he was on the first bolder, the only direction he could go was back toward that voice.

Dread fill his gut as he regarded the path that slowly began to form before him.

Garrett pulled the blanket tighter around himself as he ventured up the path. Nothing was quite right. There were waterfalls that fell upside down, grand and crumbling castles held in the skies by absolutely nothing, the wind carried with it inky black clouds of what Garrett could only assume was some sort of smog.

A shrill shriek had him clapping his hands over his ears and whipping his head to find the source of the noise. It wasn't left a mystery for long. The shriek whistled again beside him, a blast of what looked like steam jettisoned from somewhere just off the path. Very gradually, as though lifted by great tides, a full grown, bloodied whale appeared. It swam through the air above him as though he were on the bottom of the ocean. Garrett could barely breathe. He'd never seen a whale in its entirety.

Never known the majesty or enormity of the creatures.

It sure as hell didn't make him want to set foot on a boat again. He had no interest in sharing the seas with the likes of _that._

He composed himself while the behemoth swam through the void without regarding him. He wondered how he could dream of something with such clarity even though he was certain he'd never seen it before. Quickly, he dismissed the thought as he ducked into a rather impressive atrium.

The feeling of foreboding suddenly worsened to the point he huddled deeper in the blanket and probed the darkness with his keen eyes. "Is anybody home?" He asked snarkly to the empty room waiting for the dream to turn into the nightmare he was certain was coming.

"Ah, yes Garrett. Stubborn and cynical as always. Can't say I'm surprised really." The inky winds whipped around the atrium, carrying the voice and the sick feeling alike. The winds whirled into a small cyclone and then dispersed just as suddenly.

Leaving in their wake a finely dressed man with fathomless black eyes. "Hello Garrett. I've been curious to meet you."

Garrett held his ground, while the feeling of foreboding hung heavy in the air, he sensed this man actually meant him no real harm. The malice was of this place. Not the man.

"All right, sure." Garrett nodded but didn't offer his hand in greeting, "I'll play along. Good to meet you… I'm assuming you're a lord or something?"

The man chuckled and bobbed his head to one side as he shrugged, his movements graceful and fluid. Much like water. "No. I am the Outsider. You already know me by the mark you bear."

Garrett's hand lifted as though an unseen force had called it forward. When he resisted the grip, it vanished quick as the breeze around him. He chuckled as he cocked a brow at the man. "Oh. I see now. You're the big bad Outsider everyone in this city is so afraid of. Their god, or maybe their devil?"

The man's head kicked back and the laughter echoed around the atrium as through the ceiling where not a crumbled mass at their feet. "You still think I'm a dream. How very naive." his black eyes snapped to Garrett's and Garrett couldn't breathe for the icy grip that wrapped around his heart.

"How very foolish, Master Thief."

Garrett's muscles coiled, straining against the unknown will holding him in place. "What... the hell... are you?" he managed to choke out.

His struggle seemed to amuse the apparition. "Me? I am the master of this realm. And I am very, very real."

Master of this realm? Garrett would grant that this dream was vivid but he couldn't believe it was real.

"I could easily stop your heart, you know. Humans are so very breakable. Pluck one little string and suddenly your existence is folly." the man smiled slow and predatory. A chill hurried up Garrett's spine at the expression.

"Though I suppose if I do that, I'll grow bored again." he broke eye contact and the spell on Garrett's body in one swift move. The cyclone flurried around him again and his body melted into the wind, the inky black deconstructing and reforming again in one of the open doorways of the atrium.

"It's been a while, Master Thief. Since one has piqued my interest enough that I'd appear to them. You should be so lucky."

"Luck isn't really a word I would associate with my recent experiences." Garrett scoffed, glaring at the man's back.

"Oh really? How interesting. You traveled far to reach this place, were betrayed, beaten, imprisoned, and coerced into slavery."

"Exactly. Thanks for accurately portraying the nature of my deep seeded irritation."

"Yet you live." the man waved a graceful hand out and the image of the Empress and her Lord Protector manifested. "You stole from an Empress. From underneath her very nose and not once did the thought of her vulnerability cross your mind. You could have been a legend. The thief who cut down an empire… for a ring."

"That's not what I do." Garrett said firmly, "That's not who I am."

"You could have been free that night." the Outsider twisted his head over his shoulder, his vast eyes sucking in the light around him and seeming to bore into Garrett's mind.

Garrett shook his head and marched over to the man to show he was unafraid of his parlor tricks. "Oh yeah? What would you have suggested? Bringing Daud the Empress's head on a platter?"

Amusement colored the man's expression, "You know that was not what I meant. When his back was turned, on your way back from the mission, your freedom was a dagger's edge away. And again, you withheld yourself. Why is that I wonder? Your father certainly had no qualms with killing. Why do you?"

Garrett felt his lips peel back in a sneer, "what could you know about my father?"

"I know more about you and he than you know about yourself, _Little_ Garrett." The Outsider dipped his head to one side and his black eyes seemed to glimmer with mischief.

"Your mother was a whore who left you on the steps of a church. Abandoned you within hours of your life, and why? She couldn't make a profit with a squawking baby in the next room, now could she? Your real father was a… let's call him a client. A sailor who paid for a night with your mother and then ran off to the very next port he could find.

"And then there was your mentor. The man who found a small boy attempting to cut his purse, he was impressed with your skill at such a young age he allowed you your prize. He watched you for weeks before offering you an apprenticeship. Did you ever wonder why?"

Garrett stumbled back, away from the man and his twisted words. He _had_ wondered, he had always worried if he proved to be lacking, Senior would also abandon him. So he'd always tried his hardest to impress the man.

In the back of his mind he always feared he'd be left on the street again. Orphaned again for some shortcoming or another.

He didn't need to hear his suspicions confirmed. "I don't care." his voice wavered, betraying his feelings on the matter, but he balled his hands into fists and stopped his retreat.

"Senior was… a good man."

The Outsider's smile broadened. "Your mentor was a murderer and a thief. He was no hero and he didn't save you. He certainly didn't take you in with pure intentions. He was near retirement and aware of his own mortality. He wanted to leave something of his behind. Something he'd molded and unleashed on the world. That's what you were to him. A reflection of his skill. A way to keep his ghost alive.

"The Keepers of your City taught him to be a force to be reckoned with, though that was not their original intent. Betrayals upon betrayals were the fires that warped his trust. The wake of death he left behind turned him into a bitter man with hidden motives.

"He was never a 'good man'." the smug expression the Outsider sported did nothing to calm Garrett's temper, but he didn't move on the man.

He knew what this man was now. It was the manifestation of his doubt. His twisted side, the one that loved nothing more than to spout lies and fill Garrett's head with turmoil and fear. And it was all wrapped up in this 'Outsider' facade.

And he'd learned a long time ago how to deal with the incessant voice in his head.

Funny. It had been years since he'd had to.

Garrett fixed a glare on the man before him. "You're wrong. I don't care who you think you are. You. Are. Wrong." he spat.

 _The night they'd met had been a cold and rainy one. The icy water, numbing the young boy's fingers, toes, and even his face. The boy longed for a hot bath, a warm meal, and a safe bed though he knew better._

 _At eight years old he knew not to expect pity from strangers. He knew how the City worked. You fought for your bread. You tore your bedding from another's grasp. And safety? That was a luxury none could truly afford._

"...Senior was not perfect..."

 _The mark didn't look particularly rich but he certainly wasn't poor. He also was more interested with the pretty lady and shady looking man before him than his surroundings. He exchanged something with the shady looking man and that woman discreetly ran a possessive hand over his arm._

 _The shady man ducked into the back of the carriage for a moment, rummaged around, and then returned shortly after, oblivious to the lady who seemed to hang on the mark's every whispered word._

" _Good take there, Garrett." the shady man said as he hopped out of the carriage, breaking whenever conversion the mark and the lady were having. "Here's your cut. Look. ah, I'm taking my sister out of the City for a while. Somewhere safe, you know? Do me a favor, don't get in too much trouble while I'm gone."_

"...And I'm well aware of what his intentions were for me…."

" _Why Basso, I'm stunned you'd think I'd ever get into trouble, Could it be you are worried about me?"_

 _The younger man pelted the mark in the arm with his fist. "Eh… Shove it, you asshole. Just don't do anything I wouldn't do."_

 _The mark helped the woman, who seemed rather disappointed, into the carriage while the other man took up the reigns of the horses and climbed into the cab. "Just till things die down a little."_

" _Obviously." the mark patted the horse's flank and backed up, "Take care, Basso."_

"...But when push came to shove. That man protected me…"

 _The mark had a fine cloak and expensive boots. And any moron could tell the men had exchanged gold. He was perfect. With this take the young boy likely could eat for a week. Maybe more._

 _The carriage jolted as the horse heaved it away and the mark slowly sank into the alley he'd been near. The cloak acting as a shroud and his footsteps barely perceivable._

"...Sheltered me…"

" _Thank you sir." the boy whispered as the mark stuck to the boy's closest ally, the darkness. He was quick as he followed the mark, keeping his steps light, and as soundless as he could manage with numb feet. He wasn't going to go hungry this night._

"...And fought at my side…"

 _A tiny shard of glass that was wrapped on one end with leather served as his purse cutter. He unfolded it from its hiding spot on his thigh pouch and slipped along the building's wall as he approached the mark. There was a breath where the cloak wafted enough to flash that heavy purse._

 _And it was all the boy needed._

 _With a practiced lunge, snatch, and snip the purse was in his grasp._

 _He'd done it!_

"...So yes. He was a good man. And those 'deaths he left in his wake'? Those were unavoidable, grasping double-crossers who got their comeuppance..."

 _His victory was short-lived as the mark whirled on him, the cloak billowed with the force and more than a coin purse was revealed. A quiver on his hip, a bow at his back, armor on his chest. The man was no simple mark. And the boy realised quickly he should never have messed with this one._

 _The mark was faster than the boy. His hand gripped the boy's forearm and easily, as though the boy weighed nothing at all, yanked the kid off balance. With a yelp the boy was forced into the wall b_ _ehind him, a dagger at his throat, and the dark eyes of the mark barring down on him._

 _"It's no easy thing to see a Keeper, especially one who does not wish to be seen."_

"...He never killed in malice and he never took joy in death. He never stole from the poor and he never harmed his allies…"

 _The boy fought in the man's grasp, kicking at the air and biting at the hand around his arm. The man hissed as blood was drawn and adjusted his grip so he was holding the boy's arms far above his head. The boy didn't give up, though his feet no longer touched the ground, he kicked and thrashed and whipped his weight around._

 _No one would ever hurt him again._

 _No one would ever get away with it unscathed._

" _Easy boy, easy."_

"...He took in a raggedy little pickpocket and showed him his talents were actually _worth_ something. Not something to be suppressed. But something that could be honed."

 _The sound of the dagger being dropped froze the boy in place. Gentle fingers angled his chin up. "Well now. Aren't you a scrawny little thing?"_

" _Let me go, pervert!" the boy growled to which the man cocked his head and gave a unamused huff._

" _You're not my type." he added while studying the boy's hands. "I am curious, though, how it is you managed to get my purse without me feeling it. Sandpaper your fingertips, kid?"_

" _How'd you know." the boy demanded, "if you didn't feel me take it how'd you catch me."_

 _The man smiled at him slowly. "I saw your shadow, little thief."_

"Don't pretend you know everything about him. And don't pretend that selfishness is not something that runs through the veins of every single human who breathes."

 _The boy kicked himself, he'd been so eager, he hadn't noticed the light from the window in the alley. "Fine. Keep your purse then. I don't want it. Just let me go."_

 _The mark regarded him for a long time before he spoke. "Where are your parents?"_

 _The boy sneered. "What parents?"_

 _The man nodded in understanding. He kept his grip on the boy's arms and leaned over to retrieve the purse that had been forgotten in the struggle. He jangled the coins in it a few times as he stared at the boy. "How long have you been on your own?"_

" _Long enough."_

" _I'd imagine so." the man sighed and dropped the purse in the kid's hands as he released his wrists. "Scram, kid. I don't have time for you."_

"Because when it came down to it, when it mattered, he was there. And that's all I ever wanted."

 _The boy regarded the purse with suspicion as the man retrieved his dagger and marched away. He didn't understand. Adults never just gave things away, especially not to him. Grown-ups had only ever beaten him, ignored him, kicked dirt at him, or spat on him._

 _He found he didn't like the kindness._

" _Hey!" he barked, and the man stopped but didn't turn around._

" _I told you I haven't the time for you, little thief."_

" _And I don't beg for money." the boy shouted back. "I earn what's mine. I'm good at it. I don't want your handouts. I don't_ need _you or anybody else to try to take care of me. I take care of me." he emptied the bag on the street in front of him._

 _It had the desired effect. The man turned around, his face was hidden by his hood, but the boy could have sworn he'd seen the man smiling. "I never said it was a handout. Consider it… a down payment. I have some work to do. But rest assured, little thief, I'm coming back for you."_

The Outsider allowed the wind to swallow him up again, only to reanimate directly in front of Garrett.

"Such passion for a dead man." he mused. "And such a strong moral code for one who has had everything ripped from him."

"Not everything." Garrett argued. "As long as I keep by his code, I know I'll have done him proud."

"Hummm." the Outsider paced for a moment in front of Garrett who refused to move, refused to give this thing the satisfaction of knowing he was put ill at ease by his presence.

"Let me ask you something Garrett. And I do hope you mull this over deeply: When Daud meets that resolve, do you believe he will respect it? Or break it?"

Garrett opened his mouth to speak but shut it quickly as his answer died in his throat. His first inclination said Daud would eventually break him. Over and over until there was nothing of himself left. But… the Outsider raised a good point. Daud seemed to have a tentative respect for Garrett. He'd allowed him his morals for the most part and even allowed Garrett's opinion to be heard on occasion.

"I...don't know…"

The Outsider nodded and smiled as he held his hands palms up and out at Garrett as though he was pleased he'd handed him a problem. "I was right. You are intriguing after all. A gift is fitting, I think, for the man who seems to still be a boy in so very many ways."

The mark at the back of Garrett's hand burned as though Garrett hand channeled its power, then cooled as the fiery glow faded. "None of Daud's followers can use the mark as you can now. Impress him. Or kill him to gain what you want most. Your freedom. I'll put the choice to you. But know this little thief, I will be watching."

 **XXX**

Garrett bolted upright in his bed, his blackjack at the ready and his eyes searching the darkness for figures.

A flutter over by his desk had him transversing over the short expanse and swinging his blackjack toward the source of the noise. When the blunt head of the weapon hit wall he glared around the room. The flutter sounded again, and he dropped his eyes to the desk. An opened book had been left out from a few nights ago and as a breeze shifted through the room, the page fluttered up. Garrett relaxed as he shut the book and padded over to the window to seal up the portal.

The faint glow of the mark on the back of his hand caught his eye, and he lifted the hand up for inspection. The backlight still seemed to slither behind the brand, the light brightening with each inhale and fade with each exhale. As though its existence was contingent on his life. He ran the pads of his fingers over the puckered flesh.

 _The Outsider._

What an odd nightmare…

He hated his nightmares, they always had been difficult to overcome. And this one had been particularly unsettling. He needed something to calm his nerves but when he tried the door, it was still bolted.

Daud had either forgotten about him, or was still pissed.

He shrugged and settled back into his bed, lighting a candle and pulling a book out from the bedside table.

His love of books had come from Senior.

Whenever the small boy had woken with a nightmare, the man had calmed young Garrett by reading to him until he'd passed back out. Stories of pirates and treasure. Fanciful creatures and far off worlds. Things a small boy would be excited about, not frightened by.

Finding this odd little book had been a gentle mercy, this one of a young man who lead an army of misfits to defend the world from an all-powerful dragon.

He cracked the dusty old thing and read until his eyes pretested by shuttering closed. He didn't recall whether or not he'd blown out the candle or whether it was his voice he'd read the words in, or Senior's.

And as sleep claimed him, it didn't really matter.

* * *

 _ **I Am an Outsider**_ \- 3 Days Grace.


	18. Ch 17: One Day Too Late

" _ **You're**_ impressed. Aren't you?"

Daud lifted his eyes to Billie who'd perched on a beam high in the office. Her back was to the wall and she had one leg dangling off the side, kicking it in time with the grandfather clock in the room.

He didn't need to ask her what she was talking about. He knew. It always seemed to circle back to that damn kid. He grunted by way of an answer and motioned for Thomas to continue.

"...As I was _saying…_ " Thomas gave her a pointed look as he drew out the word.

Earning him no other reply from her save the bird.

"Kent is alive. For now. But our sources say he won't last under much more interrogation. Daud, if he talks-"

"-He won't."

Thomas crossed his arms over his chest and said nothing but by his demeanor, it was clear he didn't agree with Daud.

"He won't talk because he won't be held for much longer." he elaborated. Thomas' arms dropped and Billie's foot stopped its swinging.

"I'll give the word to have him taken care of." Thomas said in a hollow voice.

"I didn't say we kill him, now did I?" Daud smirked. "We have a Master Thief who has already proven to be an asset-"

Billie scoffed but Daud continued over her. "-One who has _proven_ stealing from under the Lord Protector is possible."

"I knew it." Billie sighed, "Tell me something, was Kent simply a test then? Send in a senior assassin to see if this kid is really as good as he claims he is?"

"And if he was? Would it make a difference?"

"You _are_ impressed." she accused her arms folding over her chest and her eyes narrowing at him. He simply shrugged.

"Be that as it may," Thomas cut in again, "Stealing a trinket is leagues different than springing a prisoner. Especially one under the thumb of that Lord Protector."

"No it isn't. I have the _utmost_ confidence that the boy can handle it." Daud chuckled, "And if he can't what have we really lost?" Daud jerked his chin at Thomas, "I want you to send in two Whalers disguised as prison guards, see how close they can get to Kent. They aren't to make a move on him until I give the word."

"Daud… that's going to be-"

"Done, Thomas. It's going to be done."

Thomas was quiet for a long moment until Daud pinned a glare on the man. He brought his hand to his chest in a weak salute and bowed slightly. "Yes sir. Consider it done."

 **XXX**

Emily fluffed a blue pillow before plopping it on the ground alongside her porcelain doll, her stuffed raven, and—Corvo had to admit he was impressed she'd managed to wrangle him—one of Geoff Curnow's wolfhounds. The poor hound seemed immeasurably displeased to be stuck as a guest of this little spitfire and tried to sneak away every time Emily looked away.

"Wrath!" she gasped when she caught him for what had to be the fifth time. "You bad! Get back here! Now!"

The hound whined at Corvo, who stood leaning one shoulder against the door frame, "You got caught." he waved the hound back over to the girl. "Suffer the consequences."

He turned back to her, his tail tucked between his legs and settled next to her with a grumble and a heavy sigh. Emily giggled as she wrapped a bright pink bonnet over the hound's head and laboriously tied the ends under his chin. She patted the hound's bonnet-clad head with a pudgy hand while he whined softly at her.

"You so pwetty!" she chirped happily. "Good doggy!"

At the praise, Wrath thumped his tail against the floor. Once. All the while pleading with his long eyes over at Corvo.

Corvo stifled a laugh behind his short shot of coffee, the hound was one of Geoff's most favored. Pitch black and easily a head taller than the rest of them, this beast was a mutant among the ranks. He was the one Geoff frequently used to breed pups and was easily the best at remaining hidden under the cover of night and taking down foes. Though his tracking left something to be desired, his build and coat made him the best of the best. His fierce looking brawn was not very fitting amid the frilly pink and white tea set and stuffed animals and dollys.

But all the hounds of the guard were required to learn how to tolerate children, so that Emily remained safe, so they were acclimated to her as pups.

Emily didn't mind this.

And Wrath had been her plaything more often than he was a guard. So he allowed the tiny human to paint his nails or feed him bananas, though he obviously hated them. And he allowed her to dress him up on the rare occasion, such as today. Though, not without complaint.

Which she frequently ignored.

Jessamine's hand skimmed over Corvo's back, causing goosebumps to rise on his arms. "What is going on here?" she continued to stroke him as she spoke, knowing he both enjoyed the sensation and hated his body's response. He prided himself on not being ticklish. But of course she'd be the one to find his _one_ spot.

He downed his little shot of coffee, set it aside, and rubbed at his arms. Marking the grin she sported at his reaction.

"Tea party!" Emily squeaked.

"Tea party." And Corvo answered at the same time.

"A tea party?" Jessamine giggled, eyeing the display, "Well, what a lovely party! It looks as though you have room, so is Corvo invited to your party?"

The smirk vanished from his face and he shook his head slowly as Emily jumped up and chirped, "Yes, please! Oh please, Corvo?"

Jessamine snickered as he gave her a droll look. "Please Corvo?"

"You are a devil woman." he muttered under his breath as the girl skipped over and tugged on his sleeve. He relented to her urging only because… well… he never could say no to her, no matter how much he tried.

He followed her over to her table and sighed as Jessamine stifled a chuckle behind her hand. Emily beamed up at Corvo and patted the blue pillow beside her. "Corvo!" She chirped with some amusement, "Sit!"

Jessamine snickered and pointed out his "seat". "It looks like she even went to a lot of trouble to get you a blue pillow. I say you take this invitation."

"I'm… flattered?" Corvo chuckled as he sat and motioned to the lounge it came off of with a lifted bow at her. The expression was plain enough, _really?_

"Corvo, you want tea?" Emily held up her pink teapot, on hand suspended underneath it as if showcasing the dang thing.

He scrunched his nose and shook his head, "do you have coffee by any chance?"

Jessamine scoffed, "like you need more coffee." Corvo ignored her and smiled at the girl.

Emily froze for a moment, stared at the teapot and sloshed the water around in the thing. "Why yes!" She quipped, less than enthused. "This a special teapot! It makes tea and coffee."

"How industrious." He chuckled. "How does it do that?"

Emily shrugged. "It magic."

"Of course, what was I thinking?" He picked up one of the tiny teacups, half-afraid he was going to snap the delicate little thing off.

"Coffee for-a you." she poured a small amount of water into the cup and moved to her stuffed raven. "Tea for-a you Mr. Fluffers." She leaned over to Corvo and stage whispered behind her hand, "He no 'apposta have coffee 'cause he crow all night."

"I see." he winked at her, "I promise not to tell." he gestured to the doll at his right with his cup, "What about her?"

"Mrs. Pilsen? She done. She have twee cups today."

"Scandalous."

She froze again and cocked her head to the side, "What that?"

"Scandalous?"

She nodded, her curls bouncing around her face.

He chuckled searching for a word she'd know so he could explain, "Um… Improper."

Her eyes lit up, "Ah! Yes. Quite."

 _Quite_. He mouthed at Jessamine who shrugged, as though she wasn't the culprit of her daughter's speech. Or maybe she didn't care.

Emily attempted to fill Wrath's cup up but only a dribble leapt from the spout. "Oop! I get mor-a." She trotted off to the bathroom and slammed the door behind her.

Jessamine shook her head and called, "we do not _slam doors!_ "

A muffled "Sowwy!" protruded from the room.

"Your delicate, delicate flower." Corvo smirked.

Jessamine snorted and her hand fluttered to her nose as she glanced down the hall, hoping no one heard that undignified sound.

"I did."

"Don't speak of it!" she hissed as Emily trotted back out and poured more "tea" into Wrath's cup.

Corvo swirled the "coffee" around in his little cup and then set it down without drinking any of it. "Emily?" He asked with a spark of suspicion.

"Yes?"

"Where did you get the water for your teapot?"

Emily glanced at the bathroom and Jessamine's eyes widened in horror. Her mind going to the same place Corvo's had. Their daughter was too short to reach the sink. "Emily…" she warned. "You didn't. Tell me you did not get the water from the chamber pot!"

Emily glanced at the teapot and a blush crept up her cheeks, "but… the sink too high…."

Corvo swiftly collected the dishes and upturned them into the plant beside him while Jessamine swiped the teapot from their daughter.

"Emily dear…." Jessamine struggled to keep herself calm, disgust weighing heavily on her voice. "You can't just… that is so icky! No ma'am! We do _not_ get water from the chamber pot to…" a nervous giggle escaped her and she shook her head. "...to _serve_ to people."

"But-"

" _-'Yes_ ma'am'." Jessamine corrected quickly.

Emily's face and whole body wilted, "yes ma'am…" she parroted.

Corvo dipped into the bathroom and turned on the faucet. "Emily," he called as he set the temperature to warm. Emily shuffled in, her eyes on the floor.

He'd never usurp Jessamine's authority. But really, it hadn't been _that_ big of a deal. He'd feel different, perhaps if he'd drank some of that "tea" but he recognised that she was still just a young child. She had a problem… and she'd solved it. Without the help of a grown up, no less. Was it gross? Yes. Very. Still he couldn't help but feel she was beating herself up a little too much.

He did enjoy being able to be her composed and soft father, even if it wasn't often that he could indulge himself.

"Come here, sweetie," he wrapped an arm about her tiny waist and hiked her up on his hip so she could reach the counter. "Wash your hands, kiddo."

"I really sowwy," she whispered as she stuck her hands under the spray and Corvo gave her the bar of soap.

"I know, baby."

He helped her down and toweled her hands off then tapped her nose with the cloth, making her mouth quirk up on one side, and her brown eyes zeroed in on him.

"It's not the end of the world." He brushed her nose with the cloth again, hoping to see a flash of amusement, and she batted at his hand.

"E'scuse you!" she quipped. "Dat's my nose!"

"And it's a very cute nose."

Her eyebrows furrowed and he had no doubt she had been about to say something clever when she started at the sound of the tea set being messed with.

"Ew!" Jessamine barked from the other room. "Wrath no! Get!"

Corvo shooed Emily out of the bathroom and toward the hound. "Get your dog, kid."

"What.. what do we do with this stuff, Corvo?" Jessamine gestured to the tea set and Corvo lifted a brow.

"Your kidding, right? Throw each and every piece away and set it ablaze."

"Fitting." Sokolov muttered as he entered the room and caught sight of Jessamine's panicked expression.

"Well Sokolov, you know, having children is an exciting endeavor and not altogether a clean one." she scooped Emily up in her arms and handed her off to the Guard waiting patiently in the hall. "Ensure her maid gets her bathed. And then take her directly to Madam Claudette for her lessons."

"Can Wrath come wif me, mama?"

Jessamine huffed and snapped at the hound and he trotted up, the bonnet slid so it hung awkwardly over his left ear. "See if we can't give him a bath as well."

"Yes, my Empress." and just like that the man trotted off, the hound following the child who beckoned him with her chubby hand.

Sokolov turned a stink eye on Corvo. "We need to talk." the man said tersely.

"Do we?"

The old man's face went red and the cords of his neck stuck out in irritation, "About that _door._ "

"Ah." He nodded while drying his hands with a terry cloth, "Is there a problem?"

"A problem?" he sputtered, "Honestly Corvo, it's not the type of thing I can just slap a new key and mechanism on. That damn lock took me months! _Months!_ And now you're telling me ham-handed Gorilla comes galumphing though and _loses the_ only _key?_ "

Frustration had Corvo lifting Emily's teapot and holding it out to the older man, "Tea?" he offered with a false smile.

"Sokolov." Jessamine halted Corvo's advancement on the man with a gentle hand on his chest and a wrinkle to her otherwise perfect nose, "Please don't insult the man who could very likely kill you with a flick of his wrist."

Corvo set the teapot down and rolled his shoulders. To be completely honest, Corvo was well aware he'd be berated by the pompous old windbag. Still more than a little irritation tightened in his chest at the man's insults. Even though he had come to expect the criticism, it was hard to stomach with Jessamine in the room.

Jessamine was right though. Corvo was more than capable—and willing—to snap the old man's neck.

Sokolov humphed and rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, "less a man than an overcompensated guard dog."

Corvo's fingers wrapped around the handle of his blade which he then casually drew and let hang, non-threateningly, at his side. Jessamine glared him down and he returned her look of displeasure with a shrug.

Her expression melted into one of boredom and she kicked out her hip as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Blood makes for a very ugly paint color, Corvo." the warning in her voice was all too clear.

Translation: He wasn't going to get her blessing to kill the bastard.

"Would it not be better for us to find a solution to the problem as opposed to barking obscenities and threatening death upon one another?" Jessamine offered, pointedly waving at Corvo's blade.

"With all due respect," Corvo smiled tightly at her, "I threatened nothing."

"And obscenities? Why my Empress, I would never _dream_ of-"

"-Yes, yes, you are both perfect gentleman. We've gathered as much." Jessamine sounded utterly done with the both of them. "Now to the task at hand. Perhaps only having one key is not prudent. What if we made two or three?"

Sokolov began shaking his head before she even finished speaking. "The room would no longer be secure my Empress."

"I understand the risk, all I was saying was that I wouldn't mind if Emily was given one, not now obviously, she is much too young. However, eventually she will need the same protection I do. And the last one would go to my Lord Protector. It seems silly that my Protector is not granted access when I am."

Sokolov seemed to consider his words before he spoke, "the problem arises if, Isles forbid, something were to… _happen_ … to your Lord Protector…."

He let the statement hang in the air between himself and Jessamine.

Corvo took her silence as an opening and closed in behind Sokolov while his attention was on her, he rested the tip of the blade on the base of the old man's spine, right where the hips met the vertebrae. He didn't break flesh but made sure the metal weighed heavily so Sokolov knew it was there. He stiffened and Corvo leaned in to whisper in the guy's ear. "Did you know, if you take a man's legs, you've taken the man?"

Jessamine sighed hard and Sokolov gulped loudly, "I meant nothing by it, you neanderthal. I know you are quite capable when it comes to killing, but you _are_ still just a _man._ "

"Is that what I am? To hear you tell it I'm a varying animals and a moron."

"True. but I never said you weren't useful."

Corvo scoffed, "useful, huh? Flattery under threat of pain isn't genuine, Sokolov."

"Enough. Both of you. Sokolov, Corvo is no match for your intellect but it will do you little good if you are skewered, would you not agree?"

"-I-"

"And Corvo, if you take him out before he gets access to the safe room I will personally punish you."

Corvo felt his eyebrows rise and gave her a wicked smirk: _Promise?_ He mouthed at her.

Causing a flush to creep over her cheeks, she kept her expression perturbed. "I mean it Corvo."

He sheathed his blade, "as my lady commands."

Jessamine's expression became pleading as she turned it on the older man, "Sokolov, I would greatly appreciate your cooperation on this. I just want myself and my child safe."

Sokolov was quiet for a long time then with a resigned sigh he shook his head, "Of course, my Empress…But until that time you're vulnerable."

"That's why I've ordered the guards to be doubled and the grounds to be on lock down."

"That is… not your worst idea, Corvo."

"And that was not your worst compliment, Sokolov."

"See!" Jessamine breathed, sounding very much like she was dealing with bickering children and had reached her limit. "You two _can_ get along!"

"...Now Empress I see no reason why you should insult me.." Sokolov jumped to defend himself-

-As Corvo hedged, "...Jessamine let's not take it quite that far…"

She raised her hands in defeat as she backed out of the room, "I take it back! Don't get along, just… don't kill each other."

Corvo smiled at the older male and rested his hand on his blade hilt, he swept his free hand out to the door. "After you, Sir."

The man eyed Corvo's blade, measured his shoulders and heaved a sigh. "Yes, yes, I may as well get started. Before you break something _else_ that is."

"Oh I'll break something." Corvo muttered as he followed the man out.

Sokolov bristled, "I heard that."

"I didn't say it quietly."

* * *

One Day Too Late - Skillet.


	19. Ch18: Help

" **Garrett?"** The word seemed far off somehow and Garrett was not entirely certain whether he had actually heard it or imagined the inquiry.

The harsh laugh of the Outsider bounced around in his head, bringing with it flashes of the man with black eyes and a poisoned tongue.

 _...master of this realm… your entire existence is folly… your freedom was a dagger's edge away… And again, you withheld yourself. Why is that I wonder?..._

Garrett felt himself squirm in his body but couldn't escape the voice nor could he rouse himself.

The question was relentless, echoing over and over within his dream:

… _Why is that I wonder?..._

The truth of the matter was that the thought of killing Daud hadn't even entered his mind. Daud must have realized it as well. Anger coiled in Garrett's gut as it occurred to him it was another of the man's blasted tests. Daud never went anywhere without one of his people watching his back, that much Garrett had figured out very early on.

Daud would continue to test him, Garrett realized in his twilight state. And in the interest of self preservation Garrett would need to keep a sharp eye.

He didn't want to think about what would happen to him, should he fail one of Daud's tests.

... _None of Daud's followers can use the mark as you can now…_

 _...Impress him…_

 _...Or kill him to gain what you want most…_

"Garrett?" a soft voice broke through the fog of his dreams. His shoulder shook back and forth as the voice came again, "Garrett. Wake up."

His eyes drifted open and landed on the candle remnants on the end table by his bed. Looked like he hadn't blown it out after all and it had dwindled down into a puddle before drowning itself in its own wax.

Garrett sighed as he sat up, knowing full well now that he was awake he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep easily. His dreams slipped from his thoughts in spite of his efforts to focus back in on them. The book that had been in his lap clambered loudly when it slid off the bed and met the ground and effectively snapped his thoughts from his wayward nightmares and back to his reality.

"I am sorry, Garrett. However, I am instructed to bring you to Daud. Your breakfast, I am afraid, will have to come a touch late today." Doc placed an ash grey turtleneck sweater and a pair of solid grey trousers on his bed. Daud's way of labeling him as a novice within his gang. "It would be within both our best interests that you meet with him soon."

Garrett cleared his throat as she handed him a cup filled with water. "Yeah sure." He accepted the water with no further comment and downed the drink with a quickness.

Doc was right there with a second glass.

It occurred to him as he finished the second glass that she was the only person in this damn den of vipers he would trust to give him any form of substance. And he found his trust in her to be troublesome. Even though, no doubt, she genuinely meant him no harm and even took an interest in his well being, he needed to remain cautious.

She'd already expressed where her loyalties lie. While he didn't think she would follow a direct order to kill Garrett, she had been curiously absent when Daud had put on his disturbing little show with the rats.

So she wouldn't stop it, should the order be given.

Garrett gasped as he finished the second glass. The water being the sweetest thing he'd drank in days, likely due to its absence.

"I can get you more." Doc offered as she took the glass from him and crossed the room to a pitcher sitting on a tray on his desk.

Garrett eyed it but, even though he greatly wanted to, he felt no real suspicion. He nodded as he shucked his shirt and whipped the clean one open. As he pulled the turtleneck in place he could hear the glass being refilled.

"How do you fair?" She asked, pressing the cool glass in his hands.

"I'm…" how was he really? Hopeless? Directionless?

Now that he'd confirmed Daud can predict his actions, if not actually read his thoughts and intentions he wasn't sure what to do anymore. A part of him wanted to rebel, scream, fight, bite, and claw his way to freedom. But the sensible part of him held him in check. There was little sense in allowing them to cut his life short. He needed to make the most of what time he had left and if an opportunity presented itself he'd attempt an escape.

Though it would be wise to create a backup plan… should he get caught.

A way to go out on his own terms.

"Garrett?"

He drifted back to the woman before him, pulling himself away from that line of thinking that would have no doubt consumed him. "I'm-I'm fine… just…" he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm tired."

A gentle hand rested on his shoulder and he dropped his hand to regard Doc.

"There is no need to lie to me. I well know that trapped look. If I knew of a way I could ease you I would do it." her sad smile calmed him more than he cared to admit. "Though personal experience has taught me that is a journey one must take on their own for it to have any lasting effects."

"Are you telling me to save myself?" he scoffed. "Because no offence but that's lousy advice."

"You are strong enough, but no. No one should have to save themselves. Everyone needs at the very least a kind word to bolster them enough to fight. Most are too shy or too prideful to ask."

Garrett took a few sips of his water and crossed his legs on the bed so he was a bit more comfortable. "Asking for my freedom is also not your best advice, my lady."

She smiled and folded her hands in front of her, "I see. You assume I was speaking of Daud as your enemy. Of truth, the real enemy is much more relentless than a mere human."

"Look if this is a religious thing-"

She sounded exasperated as she interrupted him. "I speak of that voice that is telling you to give up and give in. No matter the circumstance death is rarely the answer."

"Says the woman who had a party after her husband died."

She chuckled and rolled her eyes, "Averting the subject will not make it any less true." Her eyes seemed centuries older as they honed in on him. "Your death would be such a tragedy, would you not agree?"

Garrett looked away and finished his water, it suddenly tasting sour. "You read minds too, Doc?"

"Not at all." she whispered. "I simply have battled that particular demon and thus know how it manifests."

With that she briskly left the room and clicked the door shut behind her.

Garrett left the glass on his end table and dropped his head in his hands, allowing himself just a moment of weakness. Was she right? Would it be better to live out his life as a slave than to not live at all?

He didn't believe in any form of afterlife. He couldn't afford to. If what the churches said was true… well Senior was being tortured and Garrett simply couldn't believe that. He couldn't think of a single sin that would justify _eternal_ torment.

Especially given this life and its hardships.

Especially given the fact that Senior had treated Garrett so well. He was well aware that many people would have gawked at a child learning to steal, being encouraged by an adult. But it was what Garrett had always been good at, and it was a skill he loved.

And if no one had taught him, he'd have learned anyway.

People judge until the responsibility is put to them.

Not a single person in that City showed him any pity. They didn't offer him bread let alone a home. But Senior had seen talent and he took the burden and used it to his advantage.

Garrett simply couldn't cast that in a selfish light.

The water he'd guzzled weighing heavily in his gut, he kicked his covers to the floor and finished dressing. He didn't give a damn one way or another about Daud's wishes but he didn't want Doc to catch grief over his stubbornness. His stomach clenched uncomfortably as he made his way to the door, protesting to the lack of food and perhaps too much water a little too quickly, but he forced himself to ignore it. Doc had promised him food soon and he believed her so he could wait.

... _None of Daud's followers can use the mark as you can now…_

That voice he'd dreamed of echoed around the room, freezing his ungloved hand above the doorknob. The mark of the outsider pulsed with power, swelling with light and then receding… to a darkness not unlike the vastness of the Outsider's black eyes. Garrett slowly drew the hand back from the doorknob to inspect the mark farther.

... _None of Daud's followers can use the mark as you can now…_

Garrett's eyebrows pulled together hard as the urge to channel the mark became nearly overwhelming. He turned back to his desk and channeled the void, the glow of the target of his transversal landing squarely in the middle of his desk.

But it was normal, it was the only power he'd inherited from Daud and it didn't feel any different.

Feeling foolish for his paranoia, he shook his head and cancelled out the power. Not seeing much sense in using it unless he was in the field or training. The burn started up again however, more insistent than the first time. He glared at the mark and channeled it once again-

-Just as an urgent knock sounded at his door, "You alive in there?" Thomas' muffled question vibrated through the wood.

"In a _minute_." Garrett growled as panic clawed at the back of his throat, something in his instincts telling him whatever he was doing should be kept from Daud if at all possible.

He activated the power again, focusing in on the book, he wasn't entirely certain what he hoped to achieve. He just felt he needed to do… something. When nothing seemed to happen he acted without thinking and sliced his glowing hand upward.

A spike made of… shadow speared through the hard cover, at his bark of surprise it dispelled, evaporating like inky mist. He slowly inched over to the desk and lifted the book cautiously. The spike had drilled right through the center of the book, leaving a neat little hole only about the size of a crossbow bolt.

He'd never seen that power before, in fact most of Daud's men could only perform traversals. What made Garrett so special? A chill at the back of his neck had him glancing at the corner of the room that had transformed in his nightmare.

The rickety old armchair sat all by its lonesome, caked in a layer of dust Garrett hadn't bothered to mess with since he had no use for the thing.

He brought the mark into his line of vision and narrowed his eyes at it. That _had_ to have been a nightmare. A realistic one, sure but it couldn't be possible in the real world.

Could it?

Garrett rubbed at his temples and then ran his fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp. He missed his quiet, safe City. He missed the predictability. He missed.. Gods.. he missed his home.

And he missed not feeling like a fool at every turn on this bloody, pathetic excuse of a capital.

He shook his hands out, hoping to banish the chills. He felt as though he had eyes on him. He was being watched, he was sure of it. It was a strange feeling, knowing he was right and altogether wrong at the same time.

He'd had similar feeling once before when he'd first come to Dunwall.

Thinking it had to be Daud's influence he squared his shoulders and pulled himself together. It was a struggle but using a breathing technique he'd been taught as a child, he managed to calm the frantic flutter that was his heartbeat and relax the tense muscles of his shoulders and back, stomach and chest.

He'd be damned if he let that man know he could get under his skin simply by watching him.

A familiar annoyance filled him, and he took comfort in it.

Annoyance was better than sorrow. Or self pity. He couldn't afford to slip down into thoughts like that. He needed to keep his wits about him if he was going to break free.

No prison was infallible.

Not even this one.

He steeled himself and marched to the door, knowing he'd dawdled too long already.

Doc was chatting with Thomas in the hall when Garrett exited his room. She was giggling at something he'd said or done obviously because the man's chest was inflated with pride as he leaned on the wall, curiously close to her. "Sir Thomas, you are simply incorrigible. I must watch myself around you."

Garrett scoffed, bringing both sets of eyes to him. _Believe me, sweetheart, you're the only one who doesn't have to watch herself around him._ He offhandedly thought to himself as he passed them.

Her "excuse me." didn't really register but he could feel the both of them following him. Clearly, he'd interrupted something less than innocent because the air around them became increasingly awkward on the way to Daud's office.

They passed the usual, random, patrols and slipped into the office almost unnoticed.

Almost.

Daud's eyes met his but quickly returned to Billie who stood before him with her arms crossed over her chest, her stance firmly braced in a truly arrogant manner, and her shoulders tense. Something was irritating her.

It was probably Garrett.

Garrett scoffed, what was he thinking? It was always him.

As she spoke Garrett found a dark little alcove that was close enough that he could hear but not barging in on the conversation.

"It's been a challenge getting anything from Kent but we managed to have one of our men pose as a guard. He was able to get a verbal message out." Billie explained, "that bloody Lord Protector nearly killed him. Luckily, Kent isn't a half-wit. He left the ring in the library where the entrance to the safe room is. On a bookshelf, behind a bust of the Empress's late father."

Daud crossed his arms over his chest and his frown deepened, "When is he scheduled for execution?"

Billie shook her head, the muscle in her jaw ticking with irritation, "a week from today."

"And a great deal sooner, I'd imagine, if he talks." Thomas tacked on.

"I already told you that wasn't going to happen." Daud barked. He pinned a glare on the whaler standing guard behind him. "We know in what cell he is being kept in, correct?"

The whaler clapped a fist over his chest and bowed slightly at his master. "Yes sir."

"Good. Give the information to the thief."

The novice reached in his coat as he crossed the room and produced an envelope that had never been sealed. "Why me?" Garrett asked, feeling his brow crumple.

"Because you are the only person so far I've been able to send that the Lord Protector hasn't nabbed."

"So what? You want to give him another shot at it?"

"No." Daud replied curtly. "I want you to get Kent safely out of prison."

Garrett's jaw dropped and he shook his head, "so, enlighten me since I've never met him, Kent is about the size of a thumbtack, right? Because if not, He's shit outta luck having _me_ bust him out."

"Told you." Billie scoffed at Daud pointedly.

"You can pick locks, can't you?" Daud growled.

"Well… yeah but-"

"-Then you have skills beyond most of my masters here."

"Oh come on! _Some_ of your men-"

"-You are the only one." Daud barked, cutting Garrett off.

"Come again." Garrett asked, not believing his ears.

"Lockpicking is a skill only _you_ possess."

"But… when you imprisoned me you said…"

"I was mocking you." Daud pointed out. "I had no idea you'd be so valuable. I had no idea you had such a skill. Not until you actually showed me. That's why I insisted you train my men. It's no easy thing to learn, you say you learned it as a child. I'm impressed. I wish I had gotten my hands on your mentor. I can't imagine what he would have brought into the fold."

Anger swirled in Garrett's gut. "He'd have died before he joined you." Garrett growled.

"Be that as it may. Thank him. If he taught you this, he's the only reason I've left you breathing."

Garrett considered this. It did make sense. There were many men willing to follow Daud. Garrett was a nuisance. An irritation because he didn't have the stomach to take life. Had he been just some pickpocket off the street, he wouldn't have lasted long. But being the only person who could get into a locked room without a key? _That_ was a marketable skill.

That was worth a little headache from time to time.

The amount of leeway allowed to him made sense now. But it only gave Garrett the realization that he was on a short tether. A leash. The single thread holding his life was his skill as a lockpick.

A cold dread unfurled in his gut. And he was grateful Daud's men were too hard-headed to learn the finesse. The realization hit him like Zachary and his "fists of iron".

If he was successful in teaching his men… well there wasn't any reason to keep him alive, was there?

But Daud offering up that little tidbit of info? Freely? If he meant to kill Garrett, he wouldn't have told him the only reason he was keeping him alive. So was there another reason or had he not truly meant to tell him as much? Was it desperation that tipped his hand? Should Garrett continue to train them or should he refuse? Where did he go from here?

Had Garrett earned a level of trust?

Garrett's head spun from the internal back and forth. Likely, Daud had given him _just_ enough information to keep him guessing and put him in this very tailspin. "Damn me…" he muttered, rubbing at his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"What was that?" Daud cracked a grin.

Garrett hesitated before answering. Perhaps he was closer to the latter mark than he realized. "Nothing."

Daud glossed over it. Clearly through screwing with Garrett's mind, for now at least. "Well what do you say? You're so hard up on not taking lives. How's about you save one."

"That a request?"

Daud chuckled but it sure as hell held no humor, more a sinister promise that Garrett hoped he'd never see fulfilled. "Do you think you're funny, boy?"

"No." Garrett sighed, "Just hoping you'd come to your senses."

* * *

Help - Papa Roach.


End file.
